#killthesound

{HEY REMEMBER THIS THAT I GOT BUSY AND NEVER RESPONDED TO?}

“How- how long have you been like this?”

Dark didn’t respond, instead simply continuing to stare Chase down with enough rage to burn a hole through the Septic. It was rather impressive how intimidating he still was, considering he was tied upside down by one leg in a mockery of the hanged man. The demon raised (or perhaps was it lowered from this angle?) an expectant eyebrow at Chase, aura fizzling and then expanding around him in clear agitation. Chase literally jumped into action after that, following the rope system down to where it had been tied off against the wall, weighed down by quite a few sandbags.

It was all so aesthetically fitting for the director-esque enemy that had captured them, although how they’d managed to get Darkiplier, of all egos, Chase had no idea. Him? Easy. Marvin? Plausible. Jackie? Tough, but still doable. Dark? Either they were crazy, lucky, or incredibly powerful. Chase would prefer only the first two, but the more he thought about it, the more likely the latter became the best fitting answer. Although looking back at Dark as the demon slowly span in a continuous circle, Chase had to wonder- why hadn’t he gotten himself down by now?

“Septic?” the Iplier growled lowly, craning his neck to look over his shoulder to spot Chase, the bones snapping sickeningly.

“On-on it!” Chase replied, feeling a shudder crawling up his spine as he began to move the heavy sandbags out of the way.

Chase didn’t realize that maybe he should have grabbed onto the rope until the ringing from behind him suddenly pitched, corresponding to the removal of the last sandbag. He’d barely gotten it off the ground when he heard a sharp reverberating ‘wait!’ and then the SHLING of the rope sliding through its metal rigging. Chase turned around just in time to see Darkiplier collide with the wooden stage, something in his spine cracking loudly when his body hit the floor with a dull THUD. He immediately dropped the sandbag, hands coming up to his mouth, eyes wide as the demon rolled over onto his stomach with a low groan. His eyes burned glowing red when he looked up at Chase, aura expanding and snapping as it ate up the color around Dark, tendrils of it heading straight for Chase.

He was in the foyer again. How the fuck was he in the foyer again? Mark looked over his shoulder, surprised to see the corridor he had just run down had been replaced with a set of curved stairs. This was the third time he’d been dropped back into the foyer. First the wine cellar, then the garage, and after that the balcony; all of them nowhere remotely near the foyer, yet when he’d rushed through the doors he’d ended up back here, closing the front doors behind him in bewilderment. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. Did the mansion really have two floors, or was it three? Did the first floor contain the study, or was it the second? Were the bedrooms to the left or the right of the house? If he turned around and went up, would he appear on the second floor, or would he end up outside by the pool? Perhaps in the dining room? Or the master bedroom closet again? Mark couldn’t dwell on his questions for long before a familiar ominous ringing emitted from around him, grey creeping down the walls and sapping the color of the house. He picked a random direction and charged, sprinting through the foyer and past the shattered mirror that kept changing reflections, bursting through the first door he spotted. He ran through the dining room, fighting for air, and then into the kitchen. Still the ringing continued, slithering shadows snapping at his heels and threatening to trip him up.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh….what day is it?”

The fact Wilford couldn’t even remember what day it was told Dark all he needed to know. The evil ego barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead taking a deep steadying breath and exhaling in a long-suffering sigh. Wilford at least had the decency to look slightly apologetic, for all of three seconds before he became distracted again. It looked like he was writing a new script, but honestly, the words on the screen made little to no sense to Dark. Maybe they did to Wilford, maybe they didn’t - it was very hard to tell with Wilford.

“You should sleep, Wil.”

“Yes, of course, old boy, of course, just let me finish up with this-”

“Now, Wil.”

Wilford scoffed and finally turned around in his chair, giving Dark whatever attention he had left. The demon folded his arms, staring down the pink madman with narrowed eyes.

“I’m a lil busy Darky, but once this is done I’ll go straight to bed!”

“I know you Wil, and I know you won’t.”

Wilford put his hand over his heart, acting deeply offended, despite the fact Dark knew that he knew Dark was right about that. Again Dark sighed and placed his hand on Wilford’s shoulder, gripping tightly as his aura wrapped around the iconic ego, draining away his color. It was easier this way.

“You should sleep Wil.”

Wilford blinked a few times, dazed, before nodding sluggishly. He looked back at his work and then at Dark again, transfixed as his eyelids got heavy, the world turning muffled and smudged.

“Yeah, I….I should sleep. Thanks, Darky.”

{OH BOY I WOULD LIKE THANK YOU}