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Marksman's footsteps echo impossibly loud, though what the sound bounces off of, he didn't know. Shadows cast darkness around him, their cause unseen- there is no light here, no sun, no moon, just the dim shadows. He raises his hands to his face and finds them dim in color, the same grey as his visible surroundings, muted gold as though looking through a filthy lense. Unease sinks its claws into his plating, a whisper of warning that hisses inside his head, reminding him of the cold emptiness where Solus tended to reside. Solus. His memory feels smudged and fuzzy, but his purpose here crawls from its hideaway. Find Solus.
" Look at you, lost and alone. Where is your Light, little lightbearer?"
The voice makes his head throb, its volume overwhelming as it reverberates and bounces through the air. It was inside, inside him, shaking his chest and making him raise his muted hands to claw at his head in an effort to shake the claws sinking into his mind. Sound stirs around him- a low murmur that rises into cries and screams, a swell of voices, indistinct and terrible, and they are inside, they are surrounding and growing louder - Marksman digs his fingers into the base of his finials until he hears crunching metal, until his fingers sink down into dents. (And he does not feel pain, and the voices are still screaming, still howling and begging and pleading, and he does not know what they are saying but he knows they want out, and he knows that he wants them out, out of his head, and that he wants out as well.)
"Does your Light not guide you here? Are you not abandoned by your Traveler?"
The voice breaks through the sounds, quiets their cries into background static. Its own voice was a different agony, but he can manage now, now that there is just one voice. Solus. He needs to find Solus. Yes, that was a goal, a purpose, and so he walks again through the grey nothingness. The shadows move, creep along to keep pace with him, tendrils that reach for him if he stands still for too long. (He does not know what would happen if they reached him, and he does not want to find out.) Solus could stop the hurt that still bit at his skull, could light the shadows and guide him back home, to the light, to the safety.
"Your weakness lies in the Light. You are dependent upon it. Will you not find strength in the Darkness? How many has the Light left behind?"
The screams rise, louder, louder , until they echo along with the voice.
"You are alone here, with your Traveler's abandoned ones. Can you hear them? Where is your Ghost? Where is your Traveler? There is no Light here."
Marksman screams with them now, crumbles against the dark ground and falls forward, clawing at his head and begging wordlessly. It hurts , it hurts , like a warbeast inside his brain, like fire licking behind his eyes, an impossible beat in his helm- where was Solus? Why was he in so much pain? The shadows crawl over his plating, the sensation of spiders on his skin- he struggles to realize he doesn't even have skin- tendrils of cool slime that curl over his shuddering frame until he is suffocating within the darkness. The howls surround him here, louder, louder, he is being dragged under, he can feel their hands clawing at his body and he thrashes against their hold, flails and screams and clutches at his head because there is no light here, he is alone, he is abandoned, he will die here, he will die alone and trapped in the screams-
"Marksman- Marksman?"
Marksman didn't know he was screaming out loud until he chokes when he gasps. He is trapped, he is trapped, and he writhes against whatever contains him until fabric rips and burns when he touches it. "Marksman-!" Someone is calling to him, shrill and panicked, and he thrashes until he falls and lands in a heap on the floor- the floor, the dark floor, the shadows are seeping under his skin, under his heart, his head, they are inside him - there is light behind his fingers. (When had he raised his hands? When had he lifted his fingers and dug them into the area around his eyes? It hurts, dull pain resonating from around his hands, and he wheezes a strangled breath as he realizes there is light. "Solus ," his voice is a croak, and he pries his hands off his face. " Solus, where are you?" ( He can't be alone- there was light, he can't be alone, where was Solus?) "Marksman? I'm here, I'm here," clickclickchurr. Yes, yes, that was sound, that was Solus' sound, the sound he made between sentences, when he started and finished talking, that was Solus-
Solus. Solus hovered before him, visible when he moved his hands and focused his eyes. " Solus." He breaths, fingers trembling as he reached towards him. "Solus, please-" he doesn't know what he's begging for, but the ghost moved against his palms and cooed sweetly. "I'm here," he repeats, soft and soothing. "I'm here." Marksman's hands feel cold, everything feels cold aside from the little light, who burned like fire on his fingers. (He knows that can't be true, but he still pulls the ghost closer to his chest, to try and sap some of the heat.) "Solus, I-" he wheezes a breath, cradling his Light even closer, as though to protect him from the remaining shadows. "I don't know what- I couldn't find you, I was alone-" his voice breaks, ragged and strained-
And then the Guardian weeps. His body trembles, then shakes, and his synthetic breaths catch in his throat until he chokes on them. Rough, hiccuping sobs wracked through his hunched frame, his hands curling around Solus' shell as though to still their violent shuddering. (And Solus is afraid. Afraid, because he had never seen his Guardian cry, never seen him tremble and fall apart. Yes, he had seen the titan angry, seen him snarling and furious and firey, he had seen the Guardian frightened- seen him sprinting through darkened catacombs in the Scarlet Keep, seen him shaking as he dusted dirt of Solus' shell after their first encounter with Ghaul. But he had not seen his exo sob like this, seen him curled on the floor and surrounded in scorched, torn blankets, seen him choke on his own breath with the force of his weeping.) " Solus ," his voice crackles, "I don't want to be alone," then, softer, shakier, " please don't let me die alone."
" Oh, Marksman," Solus feels terribly weak suddenly, his own voice quiet. "Marksman, beloved, I'm always here for you. You won't be dying anytime soon, and by no means alone. I'll be here for you, no matter what." His Guardian doesn't stop crying, doesn't stop those heart-wrenching sobs, (those raw, broken sounds, dragged from deep within his chest, tearing through his throat in a guttural noise of agony. Solus wishes he could fix it- that he could find the hurt and make it go away, but he doesn't even know what's happened yet, so he does his best to try and fix the damage from the outside.) "Oh, my love, my darling," he croons softly, nuzzles his shell against the titan's chest and churrs soothingly. He can't move much, not with how Marksman is curled protectively around him, as though hiding him from an unseen danger, but Solus doesn't mind much considering the comfort he seems to be providing. "Marksman, I need you to try and breathe with me, alright?" He keeps his voice soft and warm. "I'm going to stay in front of you, okay? I need you to focus on me." He transmats out of his Guardian's hands, cringes when Marksman whips his head up and chokes on another cry. (His eyes are dark, wide and distraught. Solus knows they'd be wet with tears if he was capable of them.) "I'm still here," the ghost assured, watching how Marksman trembled and heaved another strained wheeze. "Marksman, my love, I need you to focus with me, alright? You're having a panic attack. I know it's scary, but I'm with you. Can you breathe with me?" His poor Guardian nodded softly, and Solus chirped approvingly before bobbing his shell. Once he was certain he had the exo's attention, he expanded his shell out, casting Marksman's face in a soft blue glow. "Inhale," he guides, watching attentively as his titan sucked in a trembling synthetic breath. After a beat, he slowly drew his shell back in, nodding approvingly when the Guardian shakily exhaled in time. "You're doing so good," Solus praised, giving a few musical little chirps. He guides the shaking exo through more breathing, until he stops choking on each inhale, until his weeping has subsided into trembling little breaths and hiccuping sniffs. (He does not have a nose, but he still runs a hand over his face in time with his sniffling. Solus finds now is not the time to think about how cute that was.)
Neither speak for a long minute. Marksman's violent shaking has settled enough that he can drag himself back into the bed, and though the blankets are scorched and torn, he still drags it along with him. (He is exhausted now, so terribly exhausted, and his head still gives dull waves of hurt. He is afraid to sleep.) "My love?" Solus' voice is delicate, as he slowly glides over and settles into Marksman's outstretched palm. "I'm sorry." His voice is ragged and tired. Solus seems surprised. "Sorry? For what?"
"I… I don't know what happened."
"What do you mean?"
"I worried you-"
" Marksman. " Solus sounds nearly distressed, and the Guardian bit back his words. "I'm here for you- don't apologize for needing me." Marksman ran a thumb over his flipper, his fingers warmer (but still trembling, Solus noted.) "I'm… so tired." Marksman finally whispered, and Solus hummed quietly. "I would think so. You haven't ever had… a moment like that, before, I'm sure it was exhausting. Would you like me to turn out the lights?" Dark. Dark, dark, shadows, the echoes, the screams, they are pleading, they need out, they are trapped in the darkness, they are abandoned by the Light- his chest constricted, tight and dangerous. " No- no, please, I can't-" he sucks in a breath, exhales slowly, and Solus' shell spins worriedly. "I can't- the dark," he finally manages, softly. " Please leave the lights on." And Solus nods with a small bob of his shell, goes up and gently nuzzles his shell to the Guardian's forehead. "Of course, my love," his voice is fond and soothing, and he does not ask what had caused such terrible terror, and Marksman was thankful. (He couldn't have an answer, couldn't explain the fear that had squirmed into his chest, the screams , the voice, he would die there, in the dark, alone, and he wouldn't find Solus, and he would be dragged into the Darkness by those left behind- no, no, because Solus is guiding him back into bed, back against the pillows, and chirping a soft little melody as he uses his shell to try and smooth out the blanket for him. "My Light," Marksman whispers, and Solus perks to attention. "Yes, beloved?" The titan laid back entirely now, carefully settled the ghost over his chest and tapping his fingers on his shell. "My Light," he repeats softly, (because he is not alone, because there is the comforting weight of his ghost on his chest, because when he closes his eyes, the darkness is a little less dark with the lights on.)
He fades back to sleep, the terrible exhaustion dragging his eyes closed despite his nervousness. (And Solus does not rest, instead keeping track of the titan's steady breaths and chirping out a quiet song. He will be ready, should nightmares try to steal his Guardian away again.)