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Soft notes fell one after the other, bleeding through the sombre silence of the castle. They sunk into the stone like rainwater, changing the texture and feel with their presence. The ambience created by the sound lingered akin to the humidity created by such torrents.
The noise called to Killer. His curiosity was to blame, but not in its entirety. It was a change of pace, something new, different—and really, that called to Killer more than anything else.
Both things led him to follow Nightmare to begin with, and, well, he supposed some things never changed, given the scene he stumbled upon.
Killer felt a little mesmerized at the sight Nightmare made. There was always something about the Boss that was different—he wasn't the same as the rest of them. He wasn't numbers and values and scripted lines. He was real and tangible, free in the way they weren't—but at that moment, it felt truly accented in a way it hadn't been before. He wasn't otherworldly in that monstrous, eldritch way he got when he got truly angry. But, instead, as Killer watched Nightmare press his blackened phalanges against ivory keys, the white teeth of the black piano seeming reminiscent of Nightmare's own grin—a bright spot against all black—there was something about him that seemed unreal. Haunting and ethereal with the way he seemed connected to the darkness, only illuminated by the way teal magic shimmered and pulsed across his corruption and a hint of teeth. There was only a glimpse of a teal eyelight. His tenebrous tendrils loomed behind him and synchronised, swaying to the melody. The movement itself was hypnotizing in its own right.
The melody spun from his fingers like a lovely web, created to encite and trap. There was something terribly haunting and sombre about it. If Nightmare felt any particular way about the piece, if he connected to it, his face gave nothing away. And for someone like Killer, who not only was skilled in reading others but knew his Boss—that implied the chances of anyone being able to read him was close to nil.
Killer leaned back against the cold stone behind him, enraptured by the performance set out before him. He had always been captivated by Nightmare to a degree, drawn to him like a moth to a flame—but this was different. This was a display, a moment of expression and artistry. Something to be witnessed and consumed.
It was probably too romantic of a sentiment—but Killer was happy to be Nightmare's audience for as long as he could.
For forever, if only his King would allow it.
Eventually, the notes tapered off in intensity. Soft notes still drifted from the piano, but it was only a quiet ambience. Nightmare's eye-light cracked open, revealing a teal lodestar nestled within deep darkness. It instantly settled upon Killer as though remarking on his existence there.
The minion only grinned in response, not feeling guilty in the slightest for interrupting Nightmare with his presence. He would do it again, even if he were punished horribly for it. Eventually, he would find his way back, drawn into the Guardian's orbit regardless of any "training" he received. Nightmare knew this as well.
Funnily enough, Killer was not the only one of his followers like this. The rest were just more subdued about it, as much as they liked to pretend they weren't.
Killer didn't care for that kind of charade, though. Subtlety had been abandoned concerning his Boss a long time ago. Nightmare's reactions were more interesting and fresh that way, he'd found. More charged and lively.
Killer was inclined to believe Nightmare quietly enjoyed such openly fervent devotion—but it could have just been his own bias pushing that idea.
"Do you need something, Killer?" Nightmare's distorted voice carried above the soft music that stirred from his touch with ease.
"Nah," Killer denied, shaking his head softly. His grin remained settled upon his face, steadfast. "Not really."
"Just here to pester me then, hm?" Where Nightmare might've been irritated once, he was now only exasperated. There was something there underlying his tone. Amusement, or maybe fondness. The vivid eyelight rolled, flickering up and away from the keys.
His hands didn't even stutter from their playing. That sort of ability implied practice and confidence.
"Naturally," Killer purred in agreement, unable to break his eyes away from Nightmare's hands for a long moment. "Though, I wasn't aware you played this." He gestured broadly to the piano before him. He honestly would've pegged Nightmare—full stop, heh—as more of a cello guy, or something.
Still, that wasn't to say it didn't suit him. Killer just hadn't considered it before.
"There are still plenty of things you don't know about me," Nightmare stated, turning his head to regard Killer fully. "I have been around long before you came into my possession."
Where one might infer poorly on Nightmare for his words, as though Killer was a tool to be used, stock to be owned—while that wasn't entirely incorrect, what would have been missed is one thing.
Nightmare coveted each and every one of his possessions. He treated everything he considered "his" with care. And, naturally, he ended up extending to his underlings. Though, Killer didn't think he intended for that to happen in the beginning.
Not that he was complaining, of course.
Nightmare continued, "I've had a lot of time on my hands. Some of that time was spent doing frivolous things." He explained.
"And now you just do frivolous things like me, huh?"
The steady stream of pleasant notes that poured from Nightmare's hands hitched for a beat at Killer's words. Killer sniggered, catching the ghost of a blush burning against Nightmare's corruption. A lift flare of mana that couldn't be stamped down quickly enough.
Cute.
"You're Incorrigible," Nightmare huffed lightly, but he didn't sound too upset. On the contrary.
The music paused abruptly. Dark phalanges rose from ivory keys to gesture to the spot on the piano bench that was left unoccupied. "Come here, and perhaps I can teach you a few things."
It was a generous offer.
But.
Killer's grin faltered a fraction. He knew Nightmare could feel the swirl of regret and longing in his chest. "Sorry, Boss. Your lesson would be wasted on someone like me," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders lightly.
Nightmare cocked his head lightly in confusion. His eyelight narrowed at Killer, considering him for a beat. He likely hadn't anticipated Killer's response to his offer.
It was unspeakably rare for Killer to deny him anything. His tendrils showcased his irritation, thrashing slightly.
Killer could only think of a cat, tail swinging around and beating against the nearest surface in its ire. His Boss was so cute sometimes.
"How so?" Nightmare inquired, clearly finding his explanation lacking.
"Mm, I've never, ah," it felt silly to be embarrassed by such a thing. He struggled to come out and say it directly for a moment before pushing himself. "I'd join ya, but I've never been able to hold a tune. Tone deaf and all that."
After all, the only instrument he'd ever had, the trombone, had been for jokes exclusively. Singing was completely out of the question.
It was something he'd always failed at in every aspect.
It wasn't a big deal, but "It'd be a disservice, trying to teach me something like that. A waste of your time." He'd rather spare them both. "As much as I'd love to serenade you, Boss, Karaoke night was never on the table, heh." He joked, but his heart wasn't quite in it.
He couldn't look at Nightmare to see his response, feeling sheepish. Knowing what kind of expression of disdain or annoyance he'd find. Exasperation at best, at another one of Killer's defects.
As if he didn't have enough.
Liquid Determination began to drip from his sockets once more. He didn't bother to attempt to staunch the flow or wipe away the fluid. His SOUL flared lightly as it spun, its smooth oscillation hitching.
Nightmare clicked his tongue at Killer's response, annoyed—but not in the way he had specifically anticipated.
"It barely matters if you're musically inclined. If I wanted a musician I'd steal one from UnderOrchestra."
Killer blinked at the response, glancing back to Nightmare's previous direction—only to find his Boss suddenly very close.
Were he less used to Dust, Horror's, and even sometimes Cross' ability to move silently and stealthily, he would have startled more. Instead, Killer's breath only hitched at the surprise, eye sockets widening.
Nightmare's glare ripped through him as he continued speaking. "I didn't ask because longed for someone to teach with musical competence, you fool. I inquired to have you join me." Corruption-laden bones reached up, a thumb wiping away the dark substance that leaked from Killer's sockets. "You're so clever, yet you still manage to be so daft at times. It's incredible."
Killer couldn't help the laugh that spilled past his teeth. His SOUL's shape wobbled, heavy with affection and relief.
"What can I say? It's part of my charm." He replied playfully, relishing the soft touch of Nightmare's phalanges brushing against his face. "You love me for it."
"So I do." Nightmare replied with a surprising ease. "I can't imagine why, but here we are." His tone was impossibly dry but tainted with a hint of fondness.
Even as Killer's face was clean of the Determination, Nightmare didn't pause in his touches. If anything, it only increased.
Nightmare's tenebrous tendrils closed in on Killer, brushing against him softly and beginning to cage him in. They threatened to wind around him like serpents, looking to strangle their prey.
Nightmare's hand drifted to the tip of Killer's jaw, tilting it towards to force his attention. "So let me ask you again, will you join me?"
They both knew the answer, but Killer knew the Corrupted Guardian wanted to hear him say it.
"Of course, Boss," He murmured eagerly. Offering himself up like a sacrifice to a malevolent god to be appeased. And, well, that wasn't too far from the truth, was it?
"Let me show you how musically inclined you truly are instead, hm?" Nightmare's eyelight was smouldering. He leaned close enough that Killer could feel Nightmare's mouth moving as he spoke. He could feel the edges of a smirk.
He shivered in anticipation, the atmosphere between them was impossibly thick. Charged to the point, Killer swore he could taste ozone in the air.
"I'm going to make you sing," Nightmare promised sweetly.
"Please, Boss." Killer breathed, buzzing with anticipation.