Black Prophesy
Nov. 1st, 2013 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegunicentSydney didn't sleep, which perhaps was why he hadn't noticed things were going so very *wrong* lately. He hadn't seen the Nightmares and how they'd... changed.
For the most part he'd been reading when it happened. When being, as it turned out, the destruction of the world and most others around, a violent shifting of power among the cosmos and new life blossoming and thriving elsewhere.
He had an extensive library, and finally the time to catch up on things, he wasn't surprised he'd missed a few small events.
Still, it was rather annoying to look up from a collection of Xanian poetry to find a Nightmare comprised of black sand nibbling his grimoires. Nightmares were made of Fear, and Fear had no place in the Dark. Alongside, perfectly acceptable. Inside was just a mess waiting to be cleaned up.
"Now who do you belong to?" He murmured, casting off the kind warmth of remembered flesh for the chilling reality of honed Silver. The creature had enough survival instinct to run, but it was made of Dark sand. There was no where he couldn't find it.
The world it led him to was nothing like he remembered his own once being. The magic was... subtler. Bound up in veils and illusions, working just out of sight of creatures too fragile to survive it. The world itself was more... orderly. Life constructed on tighter *rules*, fashioned and *designed*.
"Now what a mess we have here. Really. Does no one ever understand that when you *build* you have already set a time for it to *break*?" With a tsk of the tongue he cast the single moon an amused look. "You can't make anything *new*, so you'll borrow and perfect? You'll never be your father *that* way."
The Dark chuckled and sang, welcoming as ever those that had *finally* arrived.
Fear was a strength, but a fragile one, like flint it could slice wounds deeper and cleaner than any other, but it could also shatter and splinter all out of shape. Sydney walked through the world a shadow on black, tasting the Fear that burrowed and shrank before him. It was... twisted. *Feeding* on the Dark to keep itself going and weakening with it's consummation.
"Who are you?! What are you doing in my domain?!"
Sydney paused, bringing back his wandering focus. Yes, this one was doing the pulling, like a child at its mother's dress. He felt.... older. Far too old to be this stupid. "Sydney Losstarot. Who is the idiot who summoned me?"
Corpse flesh pallor was never a good undertone for a blush, much less a bluster-flush. To his credit it only lasted a split second. Another second was filled with confusion. The third finally gave way to disdain and Sydney wondered idly if those seconds had birthed any new books. Or rather any new good ones.
"I, am the"
"Nightmare King, yes I know *what* you are I asked who, it's a much simpler question and doesn't require a great taxing of the brain to answer, provided your ears function which I am beginning to doubt." Sydney waved the pompous title bearing away with a fan of claws.
Two seconds this time, but the sneering disdain retained a hint of rage. Perhaps he really was young, as these things went.
"*What* are you to make demands of me, Mr. Losttarot, as I am supposedly the one to summon *you*. A demon? No, but no spirit either."
Sydney smiled. Around them both the shadows rippled and writhed, the Nightmares whinnied and screamed in Fear. This world was a machine of magic, its springs and cogs interwoven threads of Belief and Life. Sydney loved such delicate balances, they were so easily broken. "I am the Dark. Now, Guardian of Fear, show me your soul. Let's see if you are worth repairing, or more easily replaced."
For the most part he'd been reading when it happened. When being, as it turned out, the destruction of the world and most others around, a violent shifting of power among the cosmos and new life blossoming and thriving elsewhere.
He had an extensive library, and finally the time to catch up on things, he wasn't surprised he'd missed a few small events.
Still, it was rather annoying to look up from a collection of Xanian poetry to find a Nightmare comprised of black sand nibbling his grimoires. Nightmares were made of Fear, and Fear had no place in the Dark. Alongside, perfectly acceptable. Inside was just a mess waiting to be cleaned up.
"Now who do you belong to?" He murmured, casting off the kind warmth of remembered flesh for the chilling reality of honed Silver. The creature had enough survival instinct to run, but it was made of Dark sand. There was no where he couldn't find it.
The world it led him to was nothing like he remembered his own once being. The magic was... subtler. Bound up in veils and illusions, working just out of sight of creatures too fragile to survive it. The world itself was more... orderly. Life constructed on tighter *rules*, fashioned and *designed*.
"Now what a mess we have here. Really. Does no one ever understand that when you *build* you have already set a time for it to *break*?" With a tsk of the tongue he cast the single moon an amused look. "You can't make anything *new*, so you'll borrow and perfect? You'll never be your father *that* way."
The Dark chuckled and sang, welcoming as ever those that had *finally* arrived.
Fear was a strength, but a fragile one, like flint it could slice wounds deeper and cleaner than any other, but it could also shatter and splinter all out of shape. Sydney walked through the world a shadow on black, tasting the Fear that burrowed and shrank before him. It was... twisted. *Feeding* on the Dark to keep itself going and weakening with it's consummation.
"Who are you?! What are you doing in my domain?!"
Sydney paused, bringing back his wandering focus. Yes, this one was doing the pulling, like a child at its mother's dress. He felt.... older. Far too old to be this stupid. "Sydney Losstarot. Who is the idiot who summoned me?"
Corpse flesh pallor was never a good undertone for a blush, much less a bluster-flush. To his credit it only lasted a split second. Another second was filled with confusion. The third finally gave way to disdain and Sydney wondered idly if those seconds had birthed any new books. Or rather any new good ones.
"I, am the"
"Nightmare King, yes I know *what* you are I asked who, it's a much simpler question and doesn't require a great taxing of the brain to answer, provided your ears function which I am beginning to doubt." Sydney waved the pompous title bearing away with a fan of claws.
Two seconds this time, but the sneering disdain retained a hint of rage. Perhaps he really was young, as these things went.
"*What* are you to make demands of me, Mr. Losttarot, as I am supposedly the one to summon *you*. A demon? No, but no spirit either."
Sydney smiled. Around them both the shadows rippled and writhed, the Nightmares whinnied and screamed in Fear. This world was a machine of magic, its springs and cogs interwoven threads of Belief and Life. Sydney loved such delicate balances, they were so easily broken. "I am the Dark. Now, Guardian of Fear, show me your soul. Let's see if you are worth repairing, or more easily replaced."
