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take my eyes, take them aside

Summary:

Visions are a greater burden than most people think.

(or: Pix has visions. Too many of them. It hurts)

Notes:

title from Body by Mother Mother

warnings for this one: Pix is not having a good time, don't read if you're not in a good mindset

i wrote this in a fevered haze in a dissociation fit that i am still in, i dont know how coherent it is so sorry about that

tw for unreality, mental breakdown, evil vigil being mean to pix, sensory issues

Work Text:

The Vigil rose above the sandy buildings, above the sand, above the sky, an obelisk of death, of life. 

 

He stumbled through the streets, sand hissing and brushing as he hurried, the raspy feeling against his skin making him shudder involuntarily. 

 

It burned, like-

 

( -fire, fire everywhere, there was fire falling from the sky and the world was sundered, they were gone, they were all gone, WHERE IS THE OCEAN, THE OCEAN, SHE’S DIED, THE GODDESS IS GONE-)

 

Like needles digging under his skin like scales (why scales, he was human, he didn’t have scales, he didn’t know how that would feel, or did he –) being pulled off individually. 

 

The Vigil, he needed to get away ( I am calling you will come ) to get closer, he needed to plunge into the fountain and feel the Vigil, he needed to run run run  light the candles, tend the hearth, inflame its power get out of my head ( You are mine you cannot escape )

 

( -the Crown, the power, it screamed for blood, it drank the violence, it would lie upon the helm of the God, the young one, the Ancient, and be taken by the Champion, the power hummed, it would cry across the entire world and split his head in twain- )

 

He shook his head, pain flaring in pulses behind his eyes. Things seemed to clear for a moment, he could see the ground and the grains of sand he was feeling on his skin, the real world visible instead of the visions of fire and death and fury that covered his sight like a filmy fabric embroidered with the tiniest details, ruins burning and ash drifting through the sky, Pixandria scorched and the Vigil shattered, refugees in soot-stained clothing and dirtied dolls clutched by traumatized children, the visions wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t go away it wouldn’t leave him alone -

 

The wind picked up, and the cool air felt alien against his skin, making him shiver even as he felt a drop of liquid drip down the back of his neck and soak into his shirt, the sandy fabric already darkened from how much he had been sweating. 

 

(- heat, fire, the oceans are dry, the swamps filled with the dead and dying, the land is cratered and burning the nature falls EVERYTHING YOU BUILT WILL FALL, YOU HAVE FAILED -)

 

A weak cry tore its way out of his dry, sand grated throat, clutching at his head only to let go a moment later when the sensation of his fingers against his skin burned , (- fire, death, fire everywhere, the world falls to flame, to flame, to shame and fire fire fire IT BURNS –)

 

There was someone there, was there? Were they there, or was it another fragmented vision, another torment, the Vigil drawing him into its web ?

 

Something drawing his shaking mortal ( As if I would allow my favored to leave ) body into their arms, pulling him somewhere, into something-?

 

(- The cause, the world-ender, press of a button, push of a lever, all will die, fire and ash and it will all fall, the end, it comes, THE END IS COMING-)

 

Sounds, a cadence, things he knew, if his mind would allow him to reach the knowledge, the bombardment, he didn’t want to know this, didn’t want to see , make it stop someone please -

 

Darkness was approaching, when did he lay down, or did he collapse, the voice was soothing and soft, the darkness was going to swallow him whole ( the Dark One will swallow the world, inhale all the fire and the life and end it all, Devourer, Ender, they killed the Guardian and it was free, it would escape and consume everything- )

 

His eyes finally closed, burningly dry, and the darkness swept over him in a dark, oily wave, and he let it drown him.