Chapter Text
He doesn't need more reasons to dread letting his feelings catch up to him. He wishes that when that damn mirror mashed them all together, it didn’t leave so much behind.
Dark still hears it all. The quiet whispers shared between Celine and another. The laughter at a house party she attended. Her mounting dread as she realized her mistake, in clinging to hope, as she felt her soul unravel; explode. The moments before Dark was born. Damien hummed along to a song stuck in his head, tapping his cane in time, scanning the area, and checking his watch. So worried about missing his train to get home. That awful, awful scream he let out before he died, the first thing Dark ever heard when he came to be.
Dark takes a deep breath, squeezing his hair in his fists and curling into himself. He's sitting on the couch in the living room, this massive, empty living room, and praying J doesn't come home. Wishing anyone but she was here, bringing that smell of sea salt and a sinking calm in his chest. He can't move right now, and can hardly keep his form in one piece. Shouts of blue and red flash on the hardwood floor and across the cushions. 'You're you. You are Dark.' He assures himself. 'Echos. Just loose strings. They mean nothing. They mean. Nothing. They don't mean shit to you.' And they don't, truly. But he feels connected to them anyway. Another cruel ripple from karma. Why should he be burdened by them? Why must they leave him clutching to reality with a single finger? Why, even with the life of three sacrificed for his existence, does he feel so alone?
These memories stick to him like spurs, pricking his fingers each time he must pull them off. It's fucking painstaking and that god damn mist isn't helping. It creeps through the gap under the front door, announcing its accomplice like a distant bell. He knows who's there. She always manages to come by when he feels his lowest. He wishes he could say it felt comforting, but all he can truly say is that it was consistent. It started out innocent enough. Now it's just a sign he's in for it.
Adeline first arrived in the forest months ago. She was, as per usual, alone and scared. Never one for friends, Adeline had strayed away from others. She stole food when she needed it, learned what the land was like, how its beasts worked, and sent a fine few of them to the Lonely; hell, she even met Nullhavvch. Adeline had nothing to want for, though, nothing she felt worthy of receiving, so she refused any deal. She had seen others with wings, and it was honestly comforting to see that she wasn't the only winged person around. Though, more interesting to her was a certain monochrome man. Well, mostly monochrome. Adeline feared him at first. Who wouldn't? His voice was deep and authoritative, and Adeline feared authority deeply. It was when they had both been in the library at the same time they had properly met. Through a shaking tone and stuttering voice, Adeline introduced herself, and Dark did the same. And then, they didn't have to talk. Sure, they made small talk here and there, but when they were together it was silent, enjoying company while working on something else, or reading. It was nice having a... friend...? And that's why she had appeared this time.
Entering through the front door, she cradles two books in her arms. Dark had shown some interest in the volumes the last time they were together, so she made sure to bring it by. Shutting the door behind her with a soft click , Adeline calls out. "Dark...? I've brought that book over for you."
Damn. He hadn't realized she was here already. Though her voice sounds... odd. Far away yet right by your ear the whole time; misty, muffled by the fog. It fades in and out at every word as if it were a ghost. His eyes open and hands loosen, head facing the floor.
"...are you alright?" Stepping into the living room, it seems Adeline had caught sight of Dark and the state he's in--although Adeline does not seem to be faring much better. Her body is not visible, just a standing mass of fog, two piercing white orbs acting as eyes. The wings, made of fog as well, slowly open and shut as she stares at the technicolor display.
He takes another deep breath, feeling the heavy taste of seawater on his tongue. That damn pull again, the damn mist. "Troubled," He mutters, letting his hands run down his face and settle on either side of his temple, rubbing haphazard circles with his fingertips. "A bit... tense, I suppose." He closes his eyes again, trying to shove away the thoughts, emotions, and sensations, under the rug.
Damien was at his desk, flipped a page, and cut his finger. He hissed, jerking it away and putting it into his mouth. A soft 'damn' left his lips-
He clenches his jaw, focusing on that thick dredge of seawater he feels filling his head, his throat, his mouth. Maybe it could wash the tang of blood from his mouth.
Adeline was never good at comforting others. But Darkiplier was the closest thing she had for a friend here, so she would do her best to help. She walks around the couch, mist following her every step as he makes her way to one of the lounge chairs. She's about to set the book down on the table, finally in view of her... friend, sort of, when his form glitches. His form shifts sharply, a version of Dark flashing blue like a projection, far too fast to make out any intimate details.
The blue flashes outwards and Adeline startles, arms flying up to defend herself. As she jumps, a plume of fog erupts from under her, the thick mist covering the floor and muffling all sound. She seems to not see this change, though, not at all noticing the fact that she didn't have a corporeal form right now. When nothing hits, she slowly lowers her arms, immediately attempting to apologize. "Sorry! S-sorry- you-- there's a blue...flash, it...i-it startled me, I'm sorry."
Celine bared her teeth, pointing a finger at Mark. She barked out an insult, blood boiling. She felt like she could burst into a blind rage, her words lost to her ears.
A twisting, flashing mush of red. It's messy, anatomy all wrong, but a face screaming in voiceless pain. It's gone in an instant. He blinks his eyes hard, pressing both hands to his head. Adeline's words wash over him, he almost doesn't understand them before they recede. "Sorry?" He says begrudgingly. Dark lifts his head, a puzzled look deep-set on his face. She's apologizing, did he miss something? "What do you mean?"
Some of her features are visible through the fog, just barely. Her hands are raised in surrender and her face looks both worried and confused. "You-- y-your form keeps flashing. Reds and blues, i-it looks like a person." She sounds… scared? Almost. The fog recedes some, and she's more corporeal now. But it swirls around her arms like whips, claiming Adeline like she's a prize to be won, an object for the Lonely to toy with.
"I um," A wave of sympathy visibly settles over Dark, in expression and body. His eyes still squint as if in pain, resting a hand on his neck. He looks slightly blue more often, no longer heavily favoring that dull grey and black. "That happens sometimes. It won't hurt you if that's what you're worried about." He assures. The way the mist curls is so reminiscent of Void energy... if it weren't white he'd swear it was Nullhavvch’s. But he isn't longing for quiet time in the Void, he's actually eyeing that mist. As The Lonely's focus shifts to Adeline more and more the taste of blood leaves, but so does the salt; the weight of the water lifted from his throat. He feels more present. Not... better, though. His form is glitching quite badly now, his whole body flickering and fizzing like an old TV. Maybe her presence isn't so bad. Maybe it was a bit better when she was simply around, somewhere, rolling in from afar. Maybe it was a little worse when he's too human.
"...I see..." She doesn't. She doesn't have a clue what any of that is, but she thinks it better to not upset Dark more when his body is glitching so violently. His assurances fall upon deaf ears, as Adeline has learned to never trust a kind word when her gut screams danger. She looks a lot duller than usual, the vibrancy of her wings now lost in the fog.
Dark frowns, finally focusing his eyes on his guest. So gloomy today, look how unstable she is. They aren't so different. Not now. Have they always been so similar? No, he'd have noticed. This train of thought is derailed when-
"...does it hurt?" She says. It seems painful to her. She fears the worst for him. To have to suffer alone like that is-- Well, She's quite familiar with suffering alone. Briefly, her mind flashes back to when she was fourteen, when the Lonely fully claimed her as an avatar. She remembers the rope tight on her neck, her lungs filled with air that she was sure she couldn't have. Adeline hung there for three days before the Lonely finally helped her out of the noose. To this day, a faint scar from the harsh rope burn still remains. As she remembers, the fog grows stronger and stronger, wrapping her form up more and more. She is oblivious to this.
Does it hurt... Dark ponders in a blundering shock.
Does it hurt...
Damien shook the hand of a well-dressed man. They stood before a large red ribbon. Damien was passed a pair of large, gold scissors. He was happy.
Dark, as always, is given no context. It makes it all so sour, so hard to understand, and so God damn annoying . Another frayed projection, light blue and staggering, seems to curl in on itself, leaning away and into the couch. Adeline reaches a hand forward, fearing that Dark may be falling. With that, fog curls from her arm, slowly sinking down to slither across the floor, resting around the man's feet.
He's so over this episode that's already gone on for hours now. Unable to sleep yet somehow tired, exhausted, with no way to recoup. These memories, they're too heavy. He feels like his being could pop. He pulls his eyes off Adeline, forced to crack his neck this time, the projection so insistent it must be wrangled back by him himself. It only lasts a few seconds at most, the effort it takes only visible in the twist of his face. "It..." He swallows, opening his mouth, searching for the right words. "It is... not pleasant. It's- yes... yes, it does hurt."
She lowers her arm, but the fog does not retreat. It seems to have decided it wants Dark. "I'm sorry." Her voice is genuine, yet still worried and unsure. "Are you okay..? Is t-there anything I can do to help..?"
Help. He does need help, doesn't he? What can help him?
A chill comes from the inside out, an uncommon slurry rising to his throat again; it rushes forward as his shoes wade in the mist. That helps. A small smile finds its way to his face, he shakes his head, his hands falling to his knees.
"Don't be sorry. Your presence is... comforting." What a soft tone. What a sweet comment. It isn't that he doesn't sound like himself, he simply doesn't sound serious. He sounds timid. His eyes fall to his feet, gently swiping his foot to the right to watch how the mist will move. He's no fool, surely there is more to this than moisture. He wants to say hello. The mist curls up around Dark's leg when he moves his foot through it. It seems happy to see him, happy to cling and hold onto him. It rises to the couch, sitting beside him, now curling around his hand, through his fingertips. "You seem troubled too, Adeline. You look... less than. Grey. Why is that?" His smile grows, settling into a calm rapture. He brings his hand closer to himself; turning his wrist and moving his fingers. How clingy... and strangely gentle.
Adeline sits up straighter at the question, as if that would free her from the grasp of the lonely, would make her more... her . She wrings her hands, wings fluttering behind her as if to try and shake off the fog. It does not move. Unfortunately, it's fond of her too. "I-I think, um... T-The Lonely," Dark looks back at her, giving her his full attention with a cocked head. "my entity... it might want something...?"
'You have no idea what I'm capable of!' A twinge of red, gritting teeth, slight twitching.
'LET ME HELP YOU!' A deep blue flashes out, throwing his arms open, mouth open.
His vision falters, fuzzy and pulsing in his head. He addresses Adeline, unmoved. "Is that a bad thing?" He cups his hands together in his lap, allowing the mist to fester. "You don't seem happy. I would understand, Nullhavvch can dish out some daunting tasks."
She watches, confused and slightly scared as the blue flashes out. She jumps some, eyes growing a bit wider. "...no, no it... it looks like there's more people... in you...? In, in the flashes, there's..." She trails off some, realizing that this might be offensive. "...more people. ...Do you have D.I.D..?"
He shakes his head. "No, no. My body just... it has a hard time... containing me. Often."
Damien sat on his bed, crisscrossed, picking at his nails. The moonlight wasn't giving him enough to see by but it didn't matter. He just needed to stop thinking. Just for a moment could he please stop thinking. He felt like sobbing. A blue projection of Dark turns his head, stretching, frantic to get away. A split-second cry sounds from it. It's gone before she can blink.
He clears his throat, nodding to the flickering as if to signify his point. "I'm not exactly made right." He lets a laugh slip out as the words do, eyebrow twitching. That was too open... God, this hurts . Echoing fucking hurts. it feels like he's been doomed from the start. Just a culmination of spite and waterlogged oak. The backup plan. An afterthought. He'd really like to stop thinking now if he's honest. Disappear, just for a while, away from his job and plans and responsibilities. He wishes he could take a break from emotion, hang it up like a coat after a long walk. It's done now, he doesn't need this. It's not useful. It's not fair. The fog rises more, swirling around his arms, across his chest, slowly, slowly , trying to take hold. It's hungry. It would like to feed. He takes a deep breath, sighing out just a wisp of white mist, almost undetectable if you aren't looking for it. "Sorry," He smiles. "That was a little dramatic, wasn't it?"
"I'm n-not exactly made right, either...?" Adeline flutters her wings some as if to suggest that her wings are wrong to have. "I mean, b-by all accounts, I should be dead." Her hand raises to her neck, subtly running her fingers over the mark there.
His eyes drift over the scar, smiling draining. They... really are alike. That's so sad. He feels sad for her, empathizing, a surge of emotion creeping back to him. He isn't going to have to feel like this forever, right? He can't handle this, and the reality of that fact is churning his stomach. He nods, waving his hand over his torso. A portion of his suit vanishes, just to show the wound; a small hole under his ribs. Blood drips out, staining the white shirt that covers it. "Same as I." There is a pained smile, one of sympathy and grief. He huffs, covering the wound once again. He has a friend, an equal. If this wound wasn't acting up so badly, he'd consider striking a conversation on the matter. Perhaps this mist can hear him, as it wraps around his middle and numbs the crackling sting. He's remembered it now, it should hurt- did hurt moments ago, but it doesn't.
Celine was-
His form starts to settle down, more man than fraying colors. "Funny, we've never talked about this." His voice sounds stiffer, more Dark. "Although it makes sense. I get the feeling we're both... creatures of habit. Much easier to keep it to yourself."
Damien-
The Lonely begins pushing Dark back together, twisting the chunks of his soul into place. Making space for itself. As if he's wearing a shirt too big for him, he feels wrong. Uncomfortable in his skin, he suddenly finds words heavy and too difficult. Dark is getting a flash of memories and then... it doesn't hurt. He can't actually remember what he was thinking about.
He wasn't paying attention.
The tide's coming in.