(With Pitch)
Pitch closed his eyes and let the wind blow his hair about, the cold air numbing his face. It had been so long since he had felt this sense of freedom…the shade let out a sigh.
'Is… I-Is something wrong?'
"I was thinking it's nice to have someone do the flying for you."
The dragon rumbled, though with what emotion Pitch was uncertain of- it wasn't fear, so there was that at least. 'I like flying under my own power.'
"Well, that's understandable. You can control your flying. You can't control much else in the world."
There was no reply but the 'fwoom' of air being disturbed under the great wings. Pitch marveled at the strength under each, slow wing beat, the shoulder muscles behind him flexing to maintain their soar. It brought an interesting question to his mind, but he chose to ponder it internally rather than ask out loud.
Did the physical state of Iago's different skins reflect his own health? Surely not, the boy was obscenely thin and so small. But this dragon appeared to be in good health, with no sign of protruding ribs or any of the anemic qualities that the Shapeshifter's human form possessed. Or maybe Pitch simply did not know enough about draconic anatomy- maybe this was small and frail for a dragon.
"So…" Pitch started, the reptile craning its scaly head to view him out of one large eye. "Where are we going?" There was silence for a moment before Iago slowly banked to the south, following the quickly approaching coast.
'I was thinking France, Mister Black.' Pitch crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in skepticism.
"Just thought of that, did you?" The dragon flinched under him, an unnerving sensation on its own, and that was before a wave of fear washed over him.
Mastigophobia*. Again. Moon above, how often was Iago beaten in the past to have that potent fear so bloody often!? And for what, even?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Pitch sighed. "Relax, boy. I could use a trip to the French countryside. It's quiet and easily startled. A good place to start. Just try to think ahead next time, if that's not too much to ask."
The compliments to his decision making seemed to soothe the boy, but only slightly. Sighing, Pitch allowed himself the one victory and changed the subject. "Have you been to France?" The shade leaned forward, his voice betraying a bit of curiosity.
'No sir. I've never been outside of Norway, except to find you in North America. But that trip was mostly ocean on a huge boat.'
"The French countryside is wonderful. I'm sure you'll like it."
Iago nodded once more, and the trip fell into silence.
(Countryside of Paris, France)
Iago coasted into a grassy field outside a tiny cluster of homes. He angled back, his massive wings back-pedaling, and the huge animal shuddered in adjusting weight as they touched down to the earth. The grass flattened under the current, brownish green blades laying themselves at the scaly feet. The wings gave one more strong flap before the dragon brought them close to his side.
With a rumble, Iago lowered his mighty head to the ground before his passenger slid off, Pitch waiting patiently for the dragon to shift into a more mobile form. He nodded his approval when the boy shifted to a barn owl and flapped up to his shoulder, turning his attention to scanning his new surroundings.
This place was in the midst of a large, luscious meadow, with rich farming land and wildflowers scattered abroad. The buildings were humble and modest, but pristine and elegant as well. The red roof tiles reflected the light of the crescent moon, and they stood like something fresh off a movie set.
This particular set of homes rested on a hillside, with a large, ancient forest uphill and a creek at its base. A watermill creaked and spun at the water's edge.
Without warning, a wave of fear slammed into Pitch's soul, earning a subtle wince. What now? He sighed, turning to the barn owl at his shoulder, and was surprised by the fear of indulgence that came off the shifter. What-
Before he could speak, the downy neck feathers fluffed out, and the wings ruffled in unease. A quiet, shy hoot escaped the Shapeshifter before he unexpectedly took flight, morphing mid-glide and landing on the dirt path in the form of a very nervous silver kitten that sat hesitantly and stared at its paws with feigned interest.
A mixed wave of mastigophobia and agathoraphobia* reached the Lord of Fear, and not only was it confusing, it bothered him deeply that he felt stronger as a result. What had he done this time to scare the boy?
"Sooo, I-I guess I'll j-just wait here… and, um, keep watch…" The kitten cast a quick, frightened glance in Pitch's direction before scanning the area again, the fluffy silver tail lashing back and forth sporadically and the little, pointy ears laying nearly flat against his head.
"Sounds good." Pitch huffed. Honestly, this kid's fear was getting annoying. How could he focus on making nightmares if this was how the boy was going to behave every time he so much as blinked?
The Nightmare King visibly reeled as a concerning thought struck him. Can I even MAKE Nightmares?
Closing his eyes, Pitch concentrated on calling his sand. To his relief, something responded within his clenched fist. The Nightmare sand stung his palm, hissing in tiny streams. The tendrils dangled limp for a minute, then suddenly lashed out against the gray hand of its supposed master.
Biting back pained remarks, Pitch dusted the rebellious grains off his now faintly scratched palm. It would have to do for tonight. Sighing in growing exasperation, Pitch opened his eyes to see the little silver kitten gawking at him in awe and joy, the child obviously thinking he had done the act on purpose.
"Close your mouth, boy, or something will make a nest out of it." He snapped, taking out his frustrations on the innocent child.
The shocked Shapeshifter immediately snapped his jaw shut with a painful sounding crack. Iago turned his eyes to the flattened grass and pawed at the blades, curling in on himself. Pitch could see the kitten's breathing begin to accelerate, the tiny paw shaking, and the pure fear was like a roaring fire to the shade.
So much fear, it made him feel so... alive.
And for once in his life Pitch hated the sensation. The after taste was still there, revolting and nauseating. There was nothing pleasurable about this fear anymore, and more than anything he just wanted to make it stop. With Iago's help, there would be plenty of fear to feast off tonight, and he couldn't wait to taste something other than this horrible bile in the back of his throat.
But more pressing to the shade than anything was the fact that the Lord of Fear could not recall ever tasting this fear before. There was a fear of bald people, a fear of the sun, a fear of bad smells for Moon's sake. He had been around for ages, how could there be a fear he hadn't encountered before?
Or maybe he was losing his touch. That seemed far more plausible, but it was equally concerning.
But setting his concerns aside, Pitch turned to the problem at hand. Making nightmares.
He clearly wasn't strong enough to produce a compliant nightmare on his own. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to need more of Iago's fear to do this properly.
That's just plain cruel.
There it was again, that tiny, foreign, unwelcome voice in his head that lately had him doubting himself.
It's NECESSARY. And temporary. He'll be fine just this once. Twice, at worst.
Rolling back his shoulders in sheer determination, the Lord of Fear made the decision he knew he needed to make for his own moon damned survival, resigning himself to feel the unwelcome sense of guilt for the time being. He would just have to indulge himself in more appealing fears afterwards to make up for his discomfort.
"Would you like to watch me work, Iago?"
The feline flat out SQUEAKED, leaping into the air and morphing into the barn owl once more that seamlessly flapped in place.
"Would I like WHAT!?" Iago's inner voice was full of nothing but sheer excitement, all fears instantly, if temporarily, forgotten. Somewhere between touched and concerned, Pitch restrained a chuckle, his humor dampened by the memory of his true intentions.
"Would you like to watch me work?" Pitch asked again, making sure his voice was as genuine as possible, offering his shoulder for the owl to land on again.
"Y…Yes p-please, sir!" The boy's voice within Pitch's mind cracked with his excitement as the owl returned to his shoulder. Over the thought of spreading Nightmares. Iago really needed to find a better idol, one that wouldn't use his history for their own personal gain, but as of tonight, Pitch didn't have time for these…foreign emotions.
"Then let's get going…" Pitch smiled slightly when the boy's excitement seemed to grow in anticipation, opting to ignore the twisting of his own stomach. "We have work to do."
Moon above, it was going to be a long night.
(Jotunheimen Palasset, Norway)
In the Scandinavian mountain range of Norway, nightfall had coaxed most of the weary travelers at Jotunheimen Palasset to retire to their grand hotel rooms and rest up before taking to the mountain pass once more come dawn. Of course, the occasional nocturnal spirit would still roam the foyer, seeking either company in the expansive lobby or solitude at the first class barroom.
The platinum chandeliers overhead were certainly ornate, but they really weren't the most practical lighting source for a bar setting. The candlelight was prone to cast sparkling reflections on the expansive collection of bottles behind the bar- filled with wines, champagnes, globally sampled waters and only the highest quality blood samples- creating a hundred, multicolored alcoholic stars.
Regardless, it was dark in the Batcave, making it difficult to discern the facial features and deft movements of its patrons. Then again, perhaps the darkness was preferred at this hour.
The Batcave Barroom, named for the historic reputation of the batcave brewing technique, represented a different type of high class spirit than the ones that chose to socialize in the lobby beyond the stained glass doors. Such as the mysterious, shaggy haired man that hunched over the polished bar, dressed well and yet disheveled.
"Sorry about the bed, Innocence." The werewolf's hoarse voice was still catching up from the endeavor, and he leaned heavily on the Breccia Paradiso marble bartop with a hard scotch between his calloused hands.
"Oh don't worry about it, Markus." Innocence smiled, waving his hand dismissively. "It happens. I'm just glad you were here and not in your village." The white clad spirit gave his best understanding smile, but his brows furrowed in concern. "Though I am wondering why it was so rough for you this month…"
"Tell me that was an accident, Innocence." The werewolf growled, not as well as his alternate form, but plenty convincing enough for Innocence to decide whether the shadows were playing tricks on his mind. They weren't.
"... I'm sorry?" His electric blue eyes blinked in confusion, but his response only seemed to anger Markus further.
"Seriously? Are you joking right now?" Innocence felt himself slowly leaning away as his concern mounted. What did I say? "You making puns now, boy? You think this is funny!?" Markus snarled, his lip curling instinctively, and he rose to tower over the older spirit.
The room was empty save them, one other patron passed out drunk, and the bartender. He could see Jerry out of the corner of his eye, ready to call for help should things get out of hand. But there was no way Jerry could have made out what they were saying, with how low their voices had been.
Which meant no one could point him towards his misstep.
Innocence's mind raced to think of what he had said to upset the werewolf. Puns? What pun? What did I- Suddenly his eyes widened in horrified understanding. Rough. Oh my stars, did I really just say rough to a werewolf right after his transformation!?
His mouth opened, but it was a moment before words could come out, and when they did they were an appalled whisper.
"I am so sorry." Markus's eyes narrowed in accusation. "That. Was a complete. And total. Accident."
Perhaps it was the genuine horror in his expression. Maybe Markus could see his face flush with embarrassment even with the poor candlelight. Maybe it was just because he was Innocence, and would never go out of his way to do something so offensive.
Whatever it was that changed Markus's mind, Innocence was immensely grateful as the werewolf slowly lowered himself back to the barstool beneath him with a pensive "Hmmm…"
"I would never-"
"I'm still pissed at you, boy."
"I think I'm just gonna…" Innocence slowly removed himself from the barstool, tucking it neatly away with a nervous chuckle.
"Uh huh."
"I'm sorry."
"Hm." Markus took an aggressive swig of scotch.
"Please forgive me."
"Leave."
"Leaving."
The bartender turned to him with an expression akin to pity as Innocence walked past, pulling awkwardly on his collar. Meeting gazes, the manager grimaced and gestured subtly to the now brooding werewolf. Jerry nodded once and went back to cleaning his glasses, and Innocence made a hasty getaway.
After that embarrassment, buying his tab is the least I could do.
Actually, after that embarrassment, he wanted to pull his collar up against the crawling heat on his neck and pull his hat down over his eyes. What he really wanted to do was go crawl in his office and hide for a year. He could feel his face on fire, and yet he was so, so glad no one but Jerry had witnessed that.
So naturally, that was when he would cross paths with Evangeline Dracula in the lobby.
"Innocence darling, what happened? You look like you've just seen a girdle for your first time." Innocence cringed, his eyes scrunching and his face turning a shade of red to rival a tomato.
"NOPE. No ma'am! Nothing of the sort, I can assure you, ha ha! Ha..." Finally opening his eyes, he scanned the lobby for his next source of embarrassment. There she was, twenty paces across the velvet carpet. He made his way towards her, under a high arched roof and between towering pillars of polished stone, to the culprit who reclined in one of the plush, leather armchairs surrounding little glass coffee tables.
Despite being several centuries old, Miss Dracula did not look a day past forty. Wavy locks of black as the night hair framed a heart shaped face with pale eyes, smirking mischievously at her own jest. Her maroon ballgown served well to highlight the paleness of her skin, with lipstick and eyeshadow to match. Her long nails were painted a matching shade, and dainty fingers curled around a wine glass half full of blood. Considering it was Evangeline Dracula, legendary opera singer and art connoisseur, that blood was definitely Essence de Mozarte.
"Oh, do relax darling, I was just giving you a hard time."
Innocence grimaced.
"Doing a fine job of that myself, tonight." He chuckled awkwardly, loosening his tie and doing anything to avoid making eye contact as he recovered from the obscene statement.
"Without drinking? My goodness, Innocence, you are a man of many talents."
"Indeed…" He sighed, giving up and plopping down on one of the armchairs across from her with a groan.
"Oh dear. Has the hotel been hard on you lately, dearie?" Now Miss Dracula turned serious, leaning forward with her legs crossed at the knee. When she sipped her blood, one could just barely make out her fangs.
"No, not really…" Suddenly, Innocence found himself pondering that question…
Perhaps it was taking a toll on him. Maybe if he hadn't been so flustered, that entire debacle would never have happened, but… if he was being honest with himself, this wasn't the first social blunder he had made.
They had been happening more and more frequently. Where he had once been able to glide into conversations like a swan, more and more often his class was becoming less graceful sailing and more awkward stumbles.
To be fair, helping Ignorance hide the evidence of an escaped soul eater was immensely stressful. Maybe if he just got some of that off his chest… carefully, of course…
"Well, actually…" He sighed, running his fingers along the studded arm of the recliner. Miss Dracula frowned, her lips pursing with the motion. "Ignorance has been really harsh lately…"
"Why is that, do you think?"
This was a conversation he would have to maneuver carefully.
"Well… I'd like to tell you he's just stressed."
"But…" She drawled knowingly. Innocence chuckled.
"But… His, ah, responsibility has become… difficult, as of late…"
"Oh dear. I hope that's not why Nicholas is here."
Innocence blinked in surprise and cocked his head, internal musings paused by his curiosity.
"Nicholas…?"
"Mhm." Miss Dracula nodded and sipped her blood. "Came through just a moment before you did, asking for my autograph, sweet thing. As famous as I, yet still a babbling babe around the stars."
"I'm sorry…" Innocence chuckled, shaking his head in confusion. "Who is Nicholas?"
Now it was apparently Miss Dracula's turn to be confused, glass halfway to her lips with a surprised oh between them.
"Nicholas Saint North, darling. Came through with Aster and that new character. Jack Frost was it? Now there's a strapping young lad-"
With a sharp inhale, Innocence leapt to his feet.
"Oh shoot, the Guardians are here!?" Miss Dracula frowned.
"Yes dearie, that's what I-"
"Oh no oh no, why didn't you start with that!?" He shouted, pulling his suit back together from the disarray two consecutive embarrassments had left it in.
He almost sprinted off before he saw the offput stare Miss Dracula was giving him, somewhere between offended and concerned. It was an understatement to say it froze him on the spot.
"W-what? What's the matter?"
"Oh dear." She spoke softly, with a hint of pity. "You really are losing your touch…"
Innocence cringed.
"Don't say that…"
"You've interrupted me twice, shouted for heavens' sake, and you were about to hurry off without so much as a proper goodbye."
Innocence bit his lip at her scolding, shame warming his face one again. Though the matters upstairs were far more pressing, his heart ached at the truth of her words.
"That was very Ignorance of me…" Innocence chuckled, earning a sad smile from Miss Dracula.
"Indeed."
He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair with a groan.
"I'm sorry." His voice came out oddly hoarse, much to the surprise of both of them.
"You look so tired, darling." Miss Dracula stood, setting her mostly empty glass on the coffee table, and took him gently by the shoulders. "I worry about you."
Forcing a smile to his face, he shook his head, though his stomach clenched as the lies left his teeth-
"I just need some rest. I'll be right as rain after a good night's sleep, I'm sure."
Miss Dracula didn't look so sure, but released him nonetheless. Manners, Innocence, where are they?
"I really must be going though. My brother will want me to be present."
"Well then… you better move along." She sighed, crossing her arms and watching him go.
Giving a stiff but polite bow, Innocence took his leave with a passing farewell.
"Enjoy your evening, Miss Dracula."
He expected to hear her reply with something similar in nature, so his shock at her silence slowed his parting strides to a standstill.
When he turned around, she was standing where he had left her, those pale eyes watching him leave and an expression of deep remorse on her face that shocked him.
"You don't shine like you used to, Innocence." She murmured, so softly he could barely hear her. And yet hear her he did, earning a wince and bringing tears of shame to his eyes.
"Please…" She whispered, her tone imploring more than anything else. "Please be careful." And with a sad shake of her head she took her seat, lifting her glass of Essence de Mozarte to her lips once more.
Innocence turned back towards the sweeping staircase, tears blurring his vision as he made his ascent. He wasn't even sure why he was crying, or for that matter why his body ached so, or why he had been acting so strange as of late.
All he knew was that right now, for once in his life, the last place he wanted to be was at his brother's side, in another moon awful meeting about another moon awful secret.
Please be careful. Miss Dracula's voice rang in his soul, and only now was his voice strong enough to answer her, too late for her to hear…
"I'm trying…"
"Innocence! There you are, good grief what took so-" The spirit startled out of his thoughts as he met his flustered brother on the third floor landing. Ignorance, meanwhile, froze to the spot upon meeting gazes with his younger brother, his mouth opening in a silent gasp of shock.
"Heavens above, Innocence, are you crying?" Ignorance whispered, seemingly in disbelief more than anything else, rushing forward and throwing his arm over the white clad shoulder.
Despite all his longing to be anywhere else, when Ignorance gave him any sort of affection, it was not to be ignored. Instead, Innocence slumped against his brother's shoulder and let out a groan.
"Hey now, none of that, we have company."
Company be damned, Innocence was not having it.
"Can't I just go to bed? I'm tired…"
"Seriously?" Ignorance huffed, ducking out from under Innocence and holding him at arm's lengths. "You're tired? What are you, five?"
Innocence scowled, not in the mood to be berated. If anything, his foul mood did more to throw off Ignorance than his words, the spirit narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"What's gotten into you? You're acting… off."
Innocence wanted to explain himself, really. He wanted to vent all his feelings out right then and there. The problem was, he didn't know what was wrong.
He wasn't sure why he felt this way, why his social elite game was falling apart, where this overwhelming exhaustion was coming from, or what to do with himself like this.
It felt like his essence, the very thing he stood for, was just falling apart around him, and he was left trying to catch the pieces before they smashed like fine china.
But he was no juggler. His act was crashing down. He was collapsing, under weights and strains he couldn't identify, and it was catching up to him all at once.
Instead, he just said-
"I'm really not feeling up to talking to anyone right now, Ignorance."
His brother frowned, eyes seething in frustration.
"They're your friends!"
"But it's your problem!"
Both spirits took a step back as Innocence's harsh snap filled the air, both surprised at the venom in his voice.
Innocence shuddered, inhaling sharply and reaching for his throat, as if to block off any further aggression. Regardless, no hands could hold back the sob that choked his throat, nor could they dry the bright blue eyes that filled with tears once more.
"Wh-what's happening to me!?" He wailed, confused and scared to the point his hands shook with each hitched breath.
"Hey, it's- it's alright… " Ignorance, for his part, shook his head and rushed forward, returning his arm around his little brother's shoulders.
But Innocence shook his head, leaning into his brother's shoulder, looking for that stability that never failed. Why couldn't he be more like Ignorance? Calm and cool and collected, far stronger and braver than Innocence could ever hope to be.
Ignorance never had breakdowns. Ignorance never feared the masses. Ignorance never let anyone talk down to him.
Why couldn't Innocence do that?
Instead, he just released another sob and forced Ignorance's half embrace into a full one, planting his forehead into Ignorance's shoulder.
"Hey, come on now…" Ignorance's awkward attempts at consolation were a welcome distraction from the war raging in his head.
"Listen, I need you, Innocence…" The younger spirit felt another quip rise in his throat, and his body shook with restrained cries as he swallowed it back down.
"Geosephete, Innocence, what's gotten into you!? Are you sick? Hurt? Do I need to call someone?"
Huh. That was the most frantic that Ignorance had sounded in… Well, a long time. Innocence only wished he had an answer to soothe them both. Instead all he could say was-
"I-I don't know what's wr-wrong with me… everything hurts… and I'm tired, I'm so tired, I've never felt this tired before… an-and I-I keep screwing things up…"
"Okay, just, just breathe for a moment. Breathe…" Innocence closed his eyes, trying to follow his brother's advice. "Good, now again… good, good. Look at me, Innocence, that's it. There."
Innocence turned his head to face his brother, leaning back to meet eyes identical to his own. He watched as Ignorance's face turned from concern and worry to determination, and as he met that gaze he felt himself slow.
His heart, his breathing, his head, his emotions, everything began to slow down, and as he held that gaze the emptiness inside him began to fill with warmth.
"Listen to me, Innocence."
Oh, that felt nice on his soul. Warm. Soothing. A gentle wave to lap away the sorrow and confusion.
He needs me.
Another! Another wave, another wave of relief.
He can't do this without me.
That was warm. To be needed. To be valued.
You can do this, Innocence.
Just a little longer, Innocence.
It will all be over soon.
Breathe, Innocence. Be calm again.
"Breathe."
Innocence took a deep breath in time with the voice, his eyes snapping open without being aware of them having ever shut. Ignorance had him by the shoulders, a firm yet gentle touch that was accompanied by an equally firm yet worried gaze.
Innocence blinked away a sudden drowsiness, shocked to find something wet on his face. He reached a hand up to his cheek, pulling it back to find his fingertips wet.
Bright blue eyes blinked at the tears on his fingertips, trying to piece things together.
"Innocence?" His brother's voice snapped him out of his musings, the younger spirit shaking his head.
"Yes?" He smiled in response, and Ignorance smiled too, a satisfied and yet… saddened sight as well. Sad? Why is Ignorance sad?
"Are you alright?"
Innocence paused, glancing back to the shine of tears on his fingers. Was he alright?... He couldn't remember any reason why he wouldn't be… chuckling, he wiped off his fingertips on the leg of his pants.
"Yeah… I-I think so…" Ignorance smiled at that, the worry slowly being replaced by determination.
"Good, good. I'm going to need your help. The Guardians are here."
"Oh, yes! Miss Dracula was just telling me. Did you know North is a fan of opera?"
Ignorance chuckled softly, a faint smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around the white clad shoulders once more
"No, no I did not."