#auraicsphere

How’s he here again? Why’s he here again? Those aren’t really questions that need to be asked. They shouldn’t be asked, because this creature, this foul demon of similar, head-splitting magical evil signature, was back. He was so distinct in his evil, it could only be him. That Pikmin. This was him.

He was normal.

And he was monstrous. And oh boy, was he angry. He spent no quiet second launching himself straight into a laser-firing battle, trying to grab Zeph, trying to hurt him, but thankfully for doggo, he was blinded by rage. All he saw was red. It made him easy to read.

But, his willingness to give up pride to attack like a wild animal, that was a bit.. Not as easy to read. He’d split between magic and pure on feral snapping of jaws and swiping of claws.

Why they do. WHY THEY DO.

Nightmare is truly left to contemplate his existence up in these trees over here, put on a high branch. Nightmare looked down at the ground. How much can falling really hurt? He’d fallen over when he was a wizard, gotten punched into the ground, and that never hurt. He’s never recalled it hurting.

So Nightmare just kinda. Drops himself from the branch like a sack of potatoes and realizes, perhaps on the second branch he hit on the way down to the floor, that maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Nightmare hadn’t expected nor wanted to be picked up, and he assumed because he’d struggled a bit that was the reason why he was dropped. How was he supposed to know the real reason was because his vibes were rancid? I mean, he’d take pride in knowing his threatening demon aura was still around him.

But he just kinda sat on the floor after being carelessly dropped. That vacant, dark stare of an evil warlord truly seeping into Zeph with that incredibly intense eyecontact. There was nothing more frightening.

“...Arceus, I wish that were me.”