#buntrousled

“DARK FORCES”

After several successful hunts, Patches had found herself uncharacteristically amicable. There wasn’t a gnawing hunger driving her to seek out prey, and her mood was, for the moment, agreeable. Of course, that just meant she wasn’t looking to go out of her way to hurt anyone. As she strolled down the sidewalk, checking her pilfered phone and perusing the various chat rooms she hadn’t been banned from yet, a horrid little idea began to take shape. There had been a recent glitter bombing in one of the groups, and that was something she could one-up, easily. 

Patches retreated to her usual home to invade to prepare. She had joked that she could provide a crossbreed between ice cream and mayo. Also bone-in mayo. She was emptying an eggshell and carefully filling it with ice cream. The plot got lost along the way but she knew her target would get a chuckle out of it regardless.

Egg prepared, the last step was the most devious and the real reason she decided to finally pay her “friend” a visit. Wick, unfortunately, had a store of glitter for use in their art projects. Had. It was now all dumped into the folds of Patches’ ruffled collar, all it would take was one sudden movement to send a shower of the stuff everywhere. There was already a mess of it in the kitchen, it would never be the same.

The clown gave no warning, merely melted her way through the phone line. Like a bad text message, or a demon from Good Omens. The only warning Jitters would get was the black ooze starting to pour from his phone. It was a good thing he shrieked and threw his phone, because as the goo started to pull itself together into that oh so familiar clown shape, the glitter had already started to spill to the floor like fine powdery snow.

As Patches locked her sights on her target, she hunched down to be closer to his level, more menacing with that horrid grin closer to his face. Something beneath her poncho rustled as a bonus limb formed to stretch out and gift him the ice creamed egg.

Gift given, Patches took a step back. There was no mercy for Jitters though. She dropped down to all fours to better brace herself as she gave a huge shake to send the glitter flying in all directions. As the fine particles settled, they’d coat damn near everything in the room. It would never recover.

You can have little a wurmple on a string. As a treat

BUT ONLY LITTLE A

Pale - Within Temptation

     He hated having him there. Twitch knew. He didn't need to catch the scathing looks. Didn't need to keep a constant look over his shoulder, or mind the distance. He didn't need to read the younger skeleton's mind or hear the cold remarks. He knew.

     He was so sure if given the chance, Plague would kill him. And he wouldn't blame him.

     Twitch had to grin to himself at the thought. Honestly, if the circumstances were different, he'd have given him the chance. Maybe not so easily, but he wouldn't have minded if he succeeded. In a way, he wouldn't now. And not because he wanted to die. Far from it. Didn't that just make it more appropriate?

     No. He had too much going for him now, and he'd like to think he's earned it, in a way. Perhaps for this very purpose. He earned it the same way he earned the youth's hatred. He didn't mind it. Not in the way that drove him to inaction or deep grief.

     It would be hypocritical of him, wouldn't it. He deserved the distrust, the anger, all of it. He never once was disillusioned about that. Did he regret it? Yes. Of course he did. He still wished that, somehow, he could reach to back then and changed what he did. It didn't matter what he had been thinking. What he had been feeling. To an extent, it didn't even matter if he'd been right and Plague would have become the person he himself despised with the very fiber of his being.

     Twitch could have made a difference. And he did. But not for the better.

     It would have been more merciful if he'd just killed him, perhaps. But he didn't. And now, he has to live with that. And he will.

     Plague hated him. But Twitch wasn't going away.

     There was a reason for that, too. He did wonder if keeping his distance would be better for Plague. But Plague... was all alone. There was no one. No one to confide in. To rely on. To even show his true face to, that needed to rely on a mask. Just like back then, and Twitch had mocked him for it.

     It was sad. And unfair, wasn't it. If he could, Twitch would give him something better than him.

     But for now, that was how it was. Twitch's life turned around only because he had people there to turn it for him. He remembered how hard he had fought them, because facing reality had been so terrifying. Facing himself had been terrifying. He couldn't do it alone.

     So. Here he was. Following nothing more than a certainty that it was the right thing to do. And not for himself. But the person he had wronged. If he could have even just the smallest bit of influence into the right direction, or ease the burden of fear or loneliness, he'd take it. This time, he won't run away.

     Plague hated him. And that was okay. In a way, it was like the hatred he'd given was coming back around. And with that thought, this was nothing. After all, Plague couldn't torment him the way he had to him. So what were scathing looks and harsh words?