[Halloween event; open] When weary feet trod that dusky road

[havesomefun]

He's so hungry. He can't remember ever feeling hungry before - once upon a time, he must have known the feeling, but not for hundreds of years now. It hurts even more to have such a thing returned to him after all this time. 

The shade is dimly aware that there are other things to worry about. Other problems taking hold of the world around it. But the hunger, somehow, takes precedence. It gnaws deeper and deeper by the day. At first, he has the sense that he shouldn't give in to it. Later, he can't remember why he ever thought that at all. 

Fortunately, the thing to sate him is in abundance here. All he has to do is reach out and take what he needs. Fear is thick on the ground, and Jack is increasingly, desperately hungry for it. 

There's a shadow of a boy, wandering the halls at night. His normal color palette of blues and whites has faded to one of blacks and greys, and his normally pale skin has taken on an unhealthy grey tinge. His eyes glow yellow, his staff is black, and wherever he go seems to be accompanied by the gentle hissing of falling sand. He has to wander at night, now. The sun hurts. Even safely in the shadows, something in his form seems even more wavering and indistinct.

He mostly seeks out the sleepers and their dreams. The knowledge of how to manipulate and feed on those dreams comes as easily to him as the knowledge of how to command ice and snow once did. But even those who are being kept awake by the chaos might suddenly feel a presence behind them, a tap on their shoulder by a cold hand. If they turn around, they'll see a yellow-eyed boy smiling a little too widely at them. 

"Pretty crazy around here lately, isn't it?"

There's still a not-insignificant part of him that doesn't like what he's doing, that hates and, yes, fears what he's become. But that part has become quickly subordinated to the hunger. It's not so bad, right? Everyone else is already in so much fear and pain. It's not so bad if he just...takes a little for himself, right? To take the edge off the hunger. To stop the screaming in his head.

He can't help it. The other Guardians would understand. 

((ooc: So, Halloween seems like the perfect time for some nightmare shenanigans, doesn't it? Jack Frost here has been transformed into a fearling, with the associated powers of manipulating dreams as well as drawing strength from nightmares and fear in general. He's lost the ability to manipulate ice and snow, but gained the power to use and craft things from nightmare sand. So feel free to find this kid lurking around in your bad dreams, probably making them worse. And if you're not asleep, he'll still try to feed off your fear by generally being creepy and unsettling. The castle's doing half his work for him, after all.))

Comments

: D dream shenanigansss (cw eye horror)

[itstheend]

Who is dreaming?

That's the question, isn't it?

Walking down a misty, mirror walled hallway, and the reflection is different every time you look; a child. Two purple stripes on blue, or one yellow on green, or a mix of eyesearing blue-green-yellow, face shadowed.

A word, apropos of nothing. Amalgamation. The concept of losing yourself in others. Feared and craved in equal measure. It tears apart, melting.

The dream shifts, tilting into a confusion of noise and fear and pain, a hand, no, a paw, no a hand, but the wrong colour, clasped over an eye. A bullet, a glowing blue spear, has gone through it, red liquid (or white dust?) seeping through the digits. Tall, indistinct shapes loom and surround, intent to kill radiating off them, seemingly endless and closing in. A bright red heart lights their smiles from underneath, and they whisper in an overlapping sussurrus of fear and glee and loathing.

There's no shortage of fodder here.

[havesomefun]

He knows, at least on some fundamental level, who is dreaming. A child is dreaming - a scared, hurting child. Exactly the sort of being he's supposed to protect.

But Jack is so tired. So hungry. And here is a feast laid out before him.

He walks through the dream and leaves even greater desolation in his wake. You will not lose yourself. You will not forget. That would be too kind. You are alone, in fact - one child, one mind, small and weak against an angry and brutal world. The shadows are arrayed against you, all in a line as tall and jagged and sharp as mountains. A gulf lies between you and them that's much too great for your small hands to reach across, but their weapons can reach you just fine.

A figure in armor wielding another glowing blue spear is that the head of the throng. She's going to hurt you, and the friendly face you expect to guide you isn't there anymore. But that's okay. Someone else is here at your back to offer a word of friendly advice.

"Run," he whispers to Chara, as Undyne lunges forward.

cw implied abuse, suicidal ideation, child murder, self harm

[itstheend]

You don't get to escape what you are.

Their own voice, snarled back at them. They're alone. They're stuck with only themself, an echo chamber of their own thoughts reverberated back again and again in an empty, hollow space, blending into the roaring static rush of the echo flowers that surround them, crushed under their fall, and they trample yet more as they take a step back, eyes blown wide, desperate rictus smile distorting their face.

one more just need one more I wish stars stop being selfish you brat that's how many we have what's your wish never be hurt like going to the dentist it's all over it's okay your existence is a crime powerful a human soul keep pretending to be one let go quit

But, haha! How can they? They can't escape what they are. They start laughing as Undyne lunges, a high raw thin sound. Distorted. Inhuman. Their legs are frozen. Can't move. Can't FIGHT, they won't let them. Can't run, voice, they won't let them. Can't spare, she won't let them.

The spear goes right through their SOUL, right through their chest, and out the other side. They fall forward onto it.

The world flickers and scratches like a broken record, and they're back, and the heroine comes for them again. And again. And again. Grey, resigned apathy starts leaching into the edges of the fear, but they can't give up. They won't let themselves. They deserve this.

[havesomefun]

Even from Jack's perspective, this is an unexpected turn. There's so much chaos in this mind - why is it falling back into a loop? What is he missing?

Chara thinks they're restrained...but by what? He looks harder at them as they fall again, and it almost seems that something is left behind - an afterimage of a child. No, not an afterimage. A shadow. A ghost.

He tries to brush it aside, tries to make this unknown they go away. Chara can FIGHT. Chara can run. There's no one there to tell them otherwise. No one there, and there never was.

It's the apathy he most wants to keep at bay. Apathy turns fear tasteless and useless to him. Besides, the part of him that's still resolutely, stubbornly who he should be insists in equal measure that no child should feel this apathetic about their own survival. Everyone should want to live. Everyone deserves that chance.

[itstheend]

Is there an echo? Is there a bleeding through, a resonance? No, they're alone here, aren't they?

"Please don't say things like that either," an echo flower says over the meaningless babbling of the others, sounds in tandem with the phantom's lips moving as it stares blanky over Chara's curled-in form at Undyne. "You deserve to live. You deserve to have a chance."

And then the ghost flickers and fades. Jack has removed the block, or at least pulled it far enough away that only thin stringy strands connect it to it's owner.

All hell breaks loose.

Chara's fear is still present as Undyne slowly walks up to where they lie prone, the high ringing note of a head injury. And then something sparks in the swirling morass of it. Once, twice, ignites, catches, burning it as fuel, driving out the apathy. The fire of determination, manifesting as hateful, vengeful anger.

"Sheesh, this is patheti-" Undyne manages to say, before her own spear is plunged into her neck. Red, far too bright to be blood, drips from Chara where they ripped it out. Undyne glares balefully with her good eye, struggles to say something, and slowly melts, and then there is nothing but dust.

There's a rushing, euphoric sensation. A chiming. Chara's love has decreased. All emotion; the fear, the anger, the hate, the shock and disgust, seem to recede in importance a little, but the satisfaction remains untouched, and is joined by a desire for more. Their hands curl on the stolen spear, white-knuckled

They smile at the looming shadows around them, at their weapons, at their distance, a curved snarl. That's right. They're the most dangerous thing here.

tw for Pitch being a snake itt? IDK, just in case

[boogerman]

Poor, poor Jack. Pitch has changed shape into something long and thin, larger than any natural snake has a right to be, and he hasn't lost any of his powers. He's feeling stronger in this last week or so, actually. And though he's about ten meters long (but thankfully not a python), he feels like he's become miles of pure black muscle and he may be poisonous too. One can hope.

It feels wonderful, well worth losing his hands. He's almost happy.

"You could even say scary." says Pitch's voice from the monsterous jet-black thing coiled up inside a shadow. "Oh, Jack. Look what you've become."

[havesomefun]

Jack doesn't know why he was ever afraid of Pitch Black. A part of him always understood the other spirit, much as he hated to. And now he looks at this coiled black snake and he understands even more. So any lingering fears he's had about being near or around Pitch have faded like morning mist. He almost finds himself curious, really. A puzzle to solve might take his mind off the hunger. For a little while.

"You're one to talk."

Though he can see where Pitch has gotten off lightly, compared to other residents of the castle. Jack wouldn't really mind losing his hands, either, if he could be stronger. Especially if he could be strong enough to control this gnawing, chewing, aching hunger.

He tilts his head to regard the snake, idly twirling his jet-black staff between his fingers. A few stray grains of nightmare sand fall from the staff as it spins through the air.. Something about his gaze seems to be trying to see into Pitch, rather than at him. Jack is still smiling, but it looks like it hurts to do so.

"'Scary'. Yeah, I guess you could. Did you do this?"

[boogerman]

So familiar. Almost as if Jack as become a part of Pitch, like family, a piece broken away... someone to keep close and never let go. So familiar... it's good Jack isn't afraid, he doesn't want the kid flying off where Pitch can't watch (over?) him.

"Like I could. I only wish I could change my shape this much. Imagine me literally becoming people's worst nightmares!"

Snakes can't smile, lacking lips, but this one can laugh!

[havesomefun]

So familiar...almost as if he's opened a new set of eyes, rather than just getting a different color, and can see now that there's something sleeping inside of Pitch that belongs to him, that is a part of him. It's the same sort of feeling a wayward fledgeling might have after returning to the nest for the first time. He should hate Pitch for even the very idea that he's involved in this, somehow. As though even if this wasn't his choice, by existing here he made it a possibility. Instead, Jack knows this is probably the safest place for him to be in the castle as he is now, and that's...not an easy thing to ignore.

His expression even softens into a slightly more genuine smile as Pitch laughs.

"Looks to me like people are already becoming their own worst nightmares." Including him. That fact is one he still can't entirely ignore or escape, even if the strange relief(?) he's feeling now keeps him calmer. It still seems so unfair that everyone can be so afraid and Jack can still be so hungry.

"But I guess that's harder, for someone like you." He shrugs expansively. "Maybe the castle didn't want you to feel left out."

god time gets away from me aaaa

[boogerman]

Pitch the Snake slithers a little closer, curling in his own coils into a comfortable 'sitting' position. Not that he can't still chase down Jack in a heartbeat, if the little idiot gets bored...

He has a feeling that won't happen. Can't Jack see they belong together? They're so alike, especially now, they should be allies. Partners in nightmares.

"Nice to know I'm your worst nightmare." And he laughs, free and unoffended. "Trust me, this is not a fear of mine. I love it."

You and me both, friend. >_< *fistbump*

[havesomefun]

"I thought you'd be flattered." And indeed, Jack doesn't run away. He pads over to flop down into a sitting position next to the snake, and even reaches over to pat Pitch companionably on his new snout. There's some part of him that's still horrified by this, and yet he can also understand Pitch's glee at the prospect. After all, Pitch feels that same hunger that Jack does, now. Pitch has always felt it. He needs to be happy at the prospect of causing fear and nightmares. It means he has a better chance of eating. So it mostly seems like just a fact of life now, the way that storms and tides do. It's more important to accept that than rail against it.

"At least there's plenty of fear for both of us, right now." Or at least, there should be. But nothing feels like enough for Jack, right now.

[boogerman]

"I am." Ha. Hahaha. See? He's pleased, not that he has an expression with this immobile face. He lays his head and neck flat one the ground, possibly relaxed.

"There should be, it's like sunlight." Well, theoretically like sunlight for normal folks who don't get blinding headaches and feel like they're moving through molasses in bright light. Metaphor! "It's all around us, I'm not stealing any from you. Doesn't it feel good?"

[ojisankink]

This one... isn't exactly sleeping, not yet. But he's very close.

Barnaby hasn't exactly been sure what to do with the times when he's been left alone. It's not like he can move of his own accord, do anything to track a master down or even call out to someone to come grab hold of his strings. Being left this powerless to hand off his power... is rather frustrating. Yet he somehow doesn't panic. Somehow, he still feels safe.

That's likely because of a certain spiritual presence near the puppet. But even Kotetsu can't watch over him forever, and there are a few times he's left completely alone, lost to his thoughts. It's then that he starts to doze.

His mind is fairly blank in this state, but his thoughts and fears are still there, easy to coax out.

[havesomefun]

It's that same spiritual presence that's kept Jack at bay for an impressively long while. In fact, Kotetsu's attempts to block Jack have been extensive and frustrating, so that Jack's continued attempts to come back have eventually been driven as much by spite and frustration as anything. Besides, Barnaby is an adult, or at least the puppet of an adult. The fears of children do a lot more to take the edge off his hunger, but the guilt of feeding off an adult is much, much less. He admitted to Pitch once that he genuinely cares less about adults than children. Adults have so much more power than children. Surely that holds true even when they're only dolls that look like adults. They can deal with a little more fear.

While drifting through the castle, he comes across Barnaby once more in the latest spot he'd been left behind by an old owner. And this time, his ghostly guardian is nowhere to be seen. Jack can't pass up this opportunity, especially since he's now quite curious why this puppet is so special.

So Jack steps out of the shadows and lets himself fade fully into view. Then he pads forward noiselessly on bare feet, kneels down, and runs a cautious hand over one glowing blue string.

[ojisankink]

The touch to one of his strings makes Barnaby tense for a moment, thoughts flooding back into him, but it doesn't take him long to figure out Jack's wants. He's not supposed to get up and start acting out. He's simply supposed to sit and rest. Sleep. That's what this creature wants, and Barnaby may have some powers, but the power to refuse is not one of them.

Almost instantly, the tension leaves him as he's left to dreaming. He has nightmares fairly often, and already, certain memories that are manipulated into those bad dreams are coming to the front of his mind. Kotetsu nearly dying, his parents, fire, everything Maverick did to control him. His mind starts constructing something, leaving him in a spacious office, seated on a couch, staring at a cup of coffee as someone stands over his shoulder.

If Jack starts trying to manipulate things, he may find that the memories that would provide the most fuel for the fire are stuck behind some mental walls... but they can be broken. Some of the boundaries are already cracked, and one is completely shattered, the memory of the orphanage Barnaby recently recovered.

[havesomefun]

Yes, good. He's only supposed to sleep. All he has to do is dream. Jack feels a rush of relief to realize that it's that easy, to have the doll listen without a fuss and without any words spoken. He's spared the shame of having to make the request out loud.

He holds on tight to the strings in the physical world, but otherwise lets his consciousness reach out to Barnaby's. So it turns out that even dolls can dream. Huh.

Immediately, he's struck by how much there is for him here. Even the initial rush of recent memories and fears would be enough to satisfy him for a while. But then he realizes that there's more hidden away, and he won't even have been the first one to drag what's hidden into the light. The scene laid out before him is seemingly simple and inconsequential, but he can smell and taste the fear and helplessness humming through it like ozone.

...for a moment, he wonders what would happen if he broke down all of those boundaries. But only for a moment. After all, even he can see how much real and lasting damage that would do to this man, above and beyond being just another bad dream. He doesn't want that, even now.

But one of those boundaries is just about broken. It's really only a matter of time. Maybe it would even be better for all of this to come back to him in a dream, instead of all of a sudden in the waking world. Yes, that makes sense. And then Jack can go without having to feed on anyone else for probably another couple of days.

One sharp strike from his power, and that boundary crumbles.

[ojisankink]

Even dolls can dream, or at least, a doll that used to be human can. His appearance in the dream is quite different from the way it is in the physical world. His carvings are gone, his eyes bright and emotional. He's shorter, skinnier, and his hair isn't as curled. He looks to be a teenager.

As the boundary shatters, there's a flash of blue light, but the dream doesn't change, not as of yet. The elderly man watching over his shoulder does move, though, gripping Barnaby's shoulder, causing the boy to flinch just slightly.

"Are you ready?" The man asks him, incredulous. Barnaby nods stubbornly and the man just frowns. "It'd be less painful if you drank that. You know I'd never intend to cause you pain, my boy."

Barnaby looks at the cup, distrustful, his heart pounding faster. He knows Maverick would never intend to hurt him... so why is he so afraid?

He doesn't want to be left that out of control. He doesn't want to be left with a fuzzy recollection of what's to come, like so many of his current memories.

Instead, he says, "I'm strong enough to handle it," because he knows Maverick will approve. Indeed, his caretaker's hand squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, and as Barnaby looks up, he beams down at him.

Then Barnaby blinks, and in an instant, he's out of his school uniform, only covered by a white sheet and a tangle of tubes. Everything stings. Every part of his body twitches with pain. Even the thought that this hurts makes his nerves burn. He closes his eyes against the blinding light, against the hundreds of pairs of eyes, the scientists, the sponsors, Maverick, all staring at him, and he tries not to sob.

[havesomefun]

This isn't the terror of phobias or monsters or death. But as the dream staggers into life on a new pathway, Jack can still feel the fear humming in and around this scene. And the source of it pours from the old man like water from a well.

He watches from an unregarded shadow, feeling sick at how satisfied he feels at the scene playing out before him. Without even consciously realizing at first, he's reaching out to try and stop Barnaby from drinking - if it really is a sedative of some sort, things might end early. He wonders if that's really what it is, and either way, he's surprised when Barnaby refuses all of his own volition.

Barnaby blinks, and suddenly Jack is somewhere else. Somewhere worse. It's too bright in here, too hot. Too many sets of eyes are watching him, until he realizes that they're not, they're watching the boy on the table. Jack looks back at Barnaby, and feels the remnants of his proper self ache with sympathy. But then he darts beneath the one safe shadow in the room, the one beneath the operating table. There, he huddles safely out of sight, the monster beneath the bed, and peers out at the gathered crowd.

"I don't understand. You wouldn't drink because you wanted to stay in control. Now look at you. You couldn't be less in control of things right now."

He reaches out to run the hook of his staff over the collection of tubes around him. He tugs one towards him, and then curls his fingers around it. Threatening to squeeze tighter, but not actually doing so yet.

"You could die here, you know? You could die, and there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it. They'd all just watch. You know they would."

[ojisankink]

The fear is heavy in the air, along with a mess of other emotions. Despair and depression. Guilt. Desperation. And though it's very faint... affection and admiration. Loyalty.

A love so unwavering it means Barnaby will put himself through all of this. He can't see Jack. Even if he opened his eyes, he couldn't see through all the pain. But he can certainly hear. Every other sense is on fire, is heightened by whatever is being pumped into his body.

He can't speak, can't answer the voice. All he knows is how hopeless he is. But at least he'll remember. He has to remember. He whimpers softly as one of the tubes tugs at his skin, blinking away tears.

His tears are... glowing.

He knows then that he won't die. He's stronger. He's getting so much stronger, and it's all thanks to Maverick. He's saving him. He isn't just watching... He wouldn't just abandon him. Indeed, as the scientists notice the water dripping down his cheeks, make notes and whisper to each other, the old man comes forward, places a washcloth over Barnaby's eyes. For a brief moment, there's a relief from the heat of the burning lamps, and he smiles with cracked lips.

"Thank you, sir..."

And then a switch is flipped. According to what the scientists are saying, they're adjusting the intake levels, but they can barely be heard over Barnaby's screaming. It's not just his tears now, but everything is starting to glow.

[havesomefun]

Too many lights, too much noise. Stop screaming stop screaming stop stop stop please please please...Jack clamps his hands over his ears and curls up tight and tries desperately to redirect the nightmare, before he burns up along with whatever is burning up inside of Barnaby. The dream doesn't want to listen to him, at first. It has inertia, now, like a runaway car. But with a howl of his own, Jack manages to drag it back onto a path that's slightly safer for him.

But only slightly. When he opens his eyes once more, they're still somewhere blinding white and oppressively clinical and clean. But now it looks like a tornado has passed through - machinery is broken, a cart is overturned, instruments and broken glass are scattered over the floor. One of the doctors is unconscious. Two more are huddling against the far wall. Barnaby is slumped in a corner. The old man is standing before him. Jack can't see the look on his face, but he's once again holding a cup.

"This can't keep happening, Barnaby. You know that, don't you? I only want to help you master these new powers, my boy..."

[ojisankink]

He can't stop. He will never stop. He feels like he'll just keep screaming for the rest of his life. But he's not even sure he can die or if that would be too good. If that would just allow him to stop suffering through all this pain.

And then all at once, it stops. It all stops, aside from a dull throbbing ache in his limbs and hoarse sobbing that he finally realizes is coming from him. He squeezes his legs tighter against himself... but he doesn't feel as slender now. He looks down to his legs, almost completely purple with bruises.

His caretaker's voice shocks him and he lets out a gasp as he stares up at Maverick. He sees the cup and reaches for it-water, please, he needs just a bit of relief-when he hears the old man's tone, and he cowers.

"I'm sorry... It just... it just hurt so much. I couldn't control myself."

...He had failed. He was supposed to stay in control and he failed.

[dustless]

There is a hall with a tapestry in it. It looks like any other hall; the tapestry looks like any other tapestry, weird symbols and stylized animals and swords. Nothing special at all.

Except there's something behind it--lucky the castle tapestries are huge--it's a door. And in the bedroom behind that door is where Frisk stays and sleeps. Sometimes.

They're not quite asleep yet, but they're getting close, curled up on the pile of pillows beside the bed. The mattress isn't comfy enough after the nice weightlessness of the hammock they'd had, but the pile is closer.

[havesomefun]

Jack slips into that room without even knowing right away who's currently occupying it. All he knows is that it feels like someone is asleep in there, someone who's otherwise wrestling with a bundle of dark and upset energy. Definitely a potential chance to feed off of someone who probably won't even notice their mental state getting just a little bit worse for a little while.

He doesn't even immediately recognize that it's Frisk, at first. He just hides himself in a shadow in the corner of the room to wait for them to finish dozing off. It's a random restless shift from them that lets him get a better look at their face. And then the rush of surprise that lances through Jack causes him to let out a soft gasp of "oh" before he can stop himself.

[dustless]

A wave of fear washes through the room--and so does a wave of flame.

Nobody should be in here everything is going bad and this is their room THIS IS THEIR ROOM NOBODY'S ALLOWED IN IT and Frisk's on their feet, fangs bared and wings flared, glowing eyes darting around for the source of it.

The bed's on fire. They don't care.