TW: Gore, Implied Parental Stuff, Implied Self-Harm

Darius ran through the rainy streets, his boots colliding with the concrete of the rain-slicked sidewalk with a rhythmic tap-tap-tap. Everything around him blurred into a pattern of brick and concrete and steel; all that mattered was where he was going. Looking around, he saw the slums of his home city, small and numerous box-shaped homes. Simple things that looked that way because the people who made them rarely had the money to afford any extravagancies. The air was extremely cold, like the blast of sheer non-heat one is met by when they are to open a freezer.

Droplets of rain cascaded from dark clouds in a net of frigid liquid, each and every one hitting Darius. Or at least it felt like that. The sensation of the cold rain was startling. Like a small, icy sewing needle falling blade-downwards on him. Every time he felt as though he may get used to the sensation, another droplet landed and snapped him into complete lucidity. The rain and blood from his fresh cheek-gashes that formed a horrible, bloody smile drained down from his face to his neck, and beneath his shirt and jacket. They burned with a searing pain, but that wasn’t even the worst thing.

His mind was a mess, a swirling dervish of anxieties and stress. Like a pot whose lid was kept on for much too long, until it finally bubbled over the rim and sprayed over the proverbial stove. It was like the seas that were his mind were suddenly twisted and riled, mixed with a dark, hateful, viscous, acidic slime. It was such a tangible feeling that he could almost feel the vitriol in the back of his throat; like bile his body had primed to expel, but he never could. He hated himself , he hated… everyone at that moment. He just wanted it to be over, why couldn’t it just end peacefully. It would all be better. No, she just had to-

He slipped on the concrete. He landed flat on his side with a sick thud. His tan skin bruised beneath his denim, metalhead-looking jacket. Thankfully, he didn’t hit his head or neck or anything, just damaged his arm. Getting back up, Darius cursed himself:

“Goddamnit!”

Propping himself up on his good arm, and then onto his knees, Darius rose back to his feet. It was a brief setback, but he refused to stop moving.

His voice was hoarse from screaming, but that would hardly stop Darius from swearing himself silly.

“Santi, gotta get to Santi… Fuck me, why’d she have to-”

A car drove by, and the headlights blinded him for a moment. It drove in one of the puddles forming from the rainstorm and splashed him with cold, dirty water. Amidst the flash of white and yellow, an odd purplish haze lingered in his retinas for a moment, and he could swear he saw the figure of some… bug-like thing before him. But as soon as it appeared, whatever it was left. He blinked and straightened-up in confusion.

“Jesus, maybe I do need my meds, heh.” He chuckled to himself and no one else in particular. It was little comfort, compared to his current situation, but it was something, at least.

Then, like it always did, his mind went to darker places. The car just… drove past a young boy, all alone on a rainy night. Of course, it abandoned him. Just like everything else had.

Darius shivered and exhaled a puff of bitter, cold air. He pulled off his denim jacket from his arms and back and held it above his head to keep himself from getting soaked, using it as a makeshift umbrella.

Up ahead, where the road forked, Darius could see a large hill, where Santi’s McMansion - his family’s really, can’t really blame him for being born rich - was situated, like the centerpiece of some grand design. The comparison that came to Darius’ mind was like a telescope in an observatory.

He looked down at his phone. It was an older model with a plain black case with one or two stickers he’d accumulated over time.

“Fuckin’ low battery…” He grumbled, hanging his head back.

Looking at his phone, he opened his text-app and looked at his most recent conversations with Santi. He winced at what he just told him prior, and typed:

“Dude, I need to come over rn” Darius wrote.

“what’s going on its late” Santi replied.

“I just need to come over. Shit’s important.”

“okay i’ll be there, you okay?”

Darius didn’t reply, he just steeled himself and continued running for Santi’s home.

Step-step-step-step-step…

20 minutes later, Darius was standing outside Santi’s door on the impossibly-well-maintained lawn. Darius doubted it was even real grass. The difference between where Darius and Santi grew up was stark and obvious. Darius’ childhood home was tiny, with just enough room to separate in a small bedroom for him and a bedroom for his parents, with a main room serving as the living room and kitchen. Santi’s by comparison seemed to be like a castle. A three-story-tall building with perfectly-painted white walls, almost like marble, and lacquered wood. It had that aesthetic… what was it called? ‘Quiet Luxury’? Well, if this was what was considered quiet, then Darius’ vocal practice must’ve been as silent as a nun in prayer.

Knock-knock-knock.

Darius’ fist met the wood of the door repeatedly. He waited for a moment, until Santi opened the door, the bright lights of the living room, once again blinding the poor unfortunate emo.

Santi was in his sleepwear, a baggy shirt with a frog on it that went to his hips and black-and-white basketball shorts. Those seemed rather ill-fitting, considering Santi was the exact opposite of athletic-looking. Not that he was heavy-set; quite the opposite: he was thin, tall, and angular, with olive skin, a gap-toothed smile constantly locked in an expression of sardonicism, with a… frankly horrid middle part through his oil-black hair that seemed to be meticulously combed over and groomed, like the fur of a persian cat. “He’s not even sporty, he just draws gay guys…” Darius thought, to distract himself from the pain.

“Hey, what’s wro- JESUS CHRIST!!!” Santi’s view of Darius started at his feet and led up to his - mostly hair-covered - face, with two 3-inch-long slashes cutting his cheeks asunder, causing him to bleed profusely.

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

“Things didn’t go well with mom… I had another breakdown… call 192…”

Darius nearly collapsed forward and Santi grabbed him by his arm, holding him steady and pulling him inside.

Darius stood there, woozy as all hell as Santi grabbed a first-aid kit from under his kitchen sink. From it, he retrieved a large gray bottle made of flexible plastic, with something clear and potent-smelling sloshing around inside, as well as some kind of sterile cloth.

“This is gonna sting…”

Santi saturated the cloth with the fluid. Darius could tell from the smell. Isopropyl alcohol.

The pain was sudden and sharp, a supplementary burning to the preexisting one. As the alcohol sank in and did its job, Darius managed a small smile; a genuine one, not the horrible gory one gashed through his cheeks right now. Doing his best to put pressure on the wounds, Santi tried to return the smile, but his nervousness and panic was evident in his eyes.

“H-hey. Hey, look at me, Shakespeare…”

“Y-Yeah..?”

“I’m gonna be fine. You and me. Two against a million. I promise.”

“Yeah. C’mon. Let’s get you outside so the paramedics see you.”

Santi helped Darius up, supporting him and helping him walk outside to the lawn. Santi pulled out his significantly-more-decorated phone and dialed the emergency services.

But then… It happened.

“...Y-yeah, my friend got himself hurt really bad-” Santi suddenly went silent.

“...Shakespeare?”

Santi suddenly stood bolt upright and started moving to the center of the lawn.

“Santi, where are ya goin? I still have a new fuckin’ mouth, dude!” Darius said that, partially-joking, trying to laugh off the sudden anxiety he felt.

Santi walked like a zombie. Darius followed him, trying to stop him or wave his hand in front of his face, but Santi refused to be impeded.

But suddenly, there was an Earth-shaking crack of thunder, and the ground sank away so that the lawn where Darius and Santi were standing looked like a caldera.

“WHAT THE FUCK-” Darius exclaimed, scooting backwards on his ass to the wall of the newly-formed sinkhole, freaking out.

Large planks of stark, white, angelic stone started to float upwards from the ground, the dirt flowing off like a fluid. It revealed the beautiful stone beneath. It was a pure, untouched white surface, like fresh snow or an angel’s wings. The planks lifted upwards, forming a straight staircase with no supports, just struts of stone with engraved patterns resembling something aquatic or Atlantean. Santi walked forward, and Darius moved to pull him down, but it was like trying to move a tungsten monolith; he just couldn’t. It was like all of Earth’s gravity was centered on keeping Santi on the staircase. Despite that, Darius held on. He kept trying to hold Santi back.

“What are you- Santi! Santi!”

But Santi either couldn’t or wouldn’t listen. The air itself seemed to part with the crackle of yellow-green energy like grand pearlescent gates, forming an entrance in the cool night air. They were vast and unending, like draconic wings spreading out and embracing humanity in indifferent awesomeness. But it was the thing behind the gates which truly made Darius gasp in awe. An immense masculine figure sat kneeling in a great spherical chamber made of polished green brick. He was scaly, with black and white skin like an orca. Large spikes burst from his muscular limbs which were covered in archaic tattoos inked in green ocher, and his hands and feet tapered into reptilian claws. A massive alligator-like tail burst from the lower back of the divine monstrosity. From the shoulders, shoulders blade, and small of the being’s back extended six white, feathery, angelic wings with a multitude of eyes embedded in their frames. Any kind of head was absent, a spine and what seemed to be the top of organs could be seen through the thing’s severed-looking neck, as well as a radiant yellow-green glow. Hovering just slightly above the neck were a twin set of large golden rings which orbited in tandem with one another. A similar script to the god-thing’s tattoos was etched into the pristine, gilded metal, and numerous eyes were set into the gold as well. At the center of the astrological-like formation was another yellow-green source of light. Behind the figure was a complex sigil written in light.

“Holy shit…” Darius muttered, his eyes watering with sheer awe at the being. He was staring at perfection itself and his mind regressed to its most primal state. His hands loosened and he fell off of Santi.

Thud-thud-thud-crack!

Darius fell down the stairs and back onto the ground. He could feel that his shoulder was dislocated. It ached in screaming pain, and it felt like his arm may tear off at any moment. And yet, Darius’ eyes were locked on the thing behind the veil. He could not speak. He could scream. He could only sob silently in awe. As he breathed, his arm moved just slightly up-and-down. Each minute movement elicited a screech of pain, a begging plea from his body to produce some kind of vocal release.

Santi reached his hand out, trying to pierce the shimmering, iridescent, water-like veil between himself and the beautiful nightmare. His hand disappeared in, and electricity in a yellow-green hue formed around it, large arcs and streaks shooting outwards from it. An arc blasted out and curved, slamming into one of the windows of Santi’s home. That window immediately shattered and glowing cracks covered the concrete and wood of the mansion.

The more of his body which vanished beyond the veil, the more lightning shot out, producing loud ear-shattering noises alongside what sounded like a backing track of angelic horns and choral singing.

And then… Santi vanished beyond the veil. A massive streak of electricity shot out like a parting gift. It spawned from the clouds above Darius and moved down as fast as… well, lightning. It struck him. Right in the chest. He felt his body go aflame and come undone. His skin char and peel away, revealing bleeding flesh beneath. Polyester would melt and fuse with skin, and hair would come alight. At one point, one of Darius’ earrings got so hot that it slid right through his ear. He wanted, he needed to scream, to curse the deities, and beg for death, but Darius simply could not. The image of the… god, had been scorched into his mind, branded onto his soul, and he sat catatonic on the dirt. His body burned and withered away… and his eyes shut.

[Comm] Duskfan Cerine Aurivel

For Cerine! Cerine Aurivel in one of my Duskfan uniforms.