Work Text:
Black is the colour of the night, is the colour of the darkness, is the colour of chaos.
It’s his colour. Or it would be if the pesky little human wasn’t bringing the light, those pinpricks of stars, the light of life. Of that outside his world, of the time of his calling and the time of his imprisonment.
This child who should be no more than mud under his geta, not this annoying teen, insisting that they play Go.
This room should be all inky shadows not these columns and lights, it should be full of movement of the shades that hanging round the edge of the mind and become those things that make you scream at night.
“Child, what is this game you play? You know you can’t win, don’t you?”
The eyes that look back in answer to those questions are suddenly as ancient as his own, if not more so.
“You can’t win, demon, you are not welcome here.”
The voice is the one that grates against skin, dragging wounds open with sharp nails that bring memories of before the darkness. Of the teasing and jokes of childhood and a life that is no more, one that bled out with a call for vengeance and a debt not paid.
A voice that only a human could make in a moment of sacrifice, of giving over a gift that no one else can. Usually their life. But as the that door opens, the one that leaves no choice, the child still lives a vicious grin painted on their lips.
Magic…
Magic was the only other thing that could have been sacrificed, given over to bind him to the light.
To a prison of memories, of which there was no escape.
So stupid…