#returning nightmare

The pink glow of the magical orb cascaded across the room, casting deep purple shadows that stretched far behind Mr. Dark. It was as if all other light had been sucked out of the area, leaving nothing behind but the Protoon’s luminescence. The Nightmare seemed to be frozen in place, his red and yellow eyes nearly unreadable. 

A hand emerged from his cloak, claws briefly reaching for the Protoon… 

But they instead swiped through the air, and the anonymous stranger was trapped in a bubble in an instant. Gaze intense, he shot a glare at the anon.

“I don't know your intent,” he growled, “But don’t take this so lightly.” he clicked his tongue, turning his attention back to the Protoon, “Only a fool would think this a plaything.”

Even as a Nightmare, he could sense the power ebbing and flowing around the artifact. Deep within his core, he could still feel the connection he had to it. Even now, when he was no longer a true Limbless, it beckoned like a long lost friend…

A chill passed through him.

Temptation. It was alluring. The power, the possibilities, the familiarity… It drew him closer and closer. His heart pounded in his ears. Yet, his feet were firmly planted in place. 

The cruel temptress of trying to gain the attention of the Bubble Dreamer once again danced around in his mind. Despite his many attempts and failures, as well as the multiple instances of the Glade being put under attack by other more hostile creatures, Polokus hadn’t changed in the slightest… Dark wanted to make that change. Even if it came at a price, he wanted the Glade to be kept safe, and not by a teenager that should never have lost his childhood to the plaguing nightmares…

Yet, Dark knew that another attempt wouldn't work. He had learned that his own morality got in the way of causing any true damage–enough that it would genuinely garner the attention of Polokus, and not just Rayman. Despite his “evil” ways, he would have been considered “soft” by many villains.

He was realizing now, that such evil ways were not for him. They never were, despite his determined misgivings. Regardless of his attitude or so-called edgy life choices.

Not to mention, he had been offered forgiveness, not just once, but twice. Surely he wouldn't be offered the same hand if he tried a third time… 

… And did he really want to break that trust? Trust that he never truly attempted to gain, yet received due to his own actions and morality? As much as he didn't want to admit it, he did enjoy the company of those he had made acquaintance with over the years. While he would have discarded them with reckless abandon before, in favor of a brighter sky, he found himself clinging onto them more and more…

Mr. Dark frowned under his cloak, and clenched his fists. 

At any rate, this had to be a trick of some sort. A trap set up by that baleful Betilla. She knew of his presence, and he was aware of her acknowledgement. 

But, even if it wasn't a trap…

The name Jano alone was enough to make a chill pass through Ales’ body. His jaw tensed, and one could see lines forming on his nose as if it were scrunching up.

“When?” was the first demand to erupt from his mouth, “Why?” was the second, though he had his doubts that he’d receive an answer.

The hero’s visit to the Cave of Bad Dreams was certainly a surprise to him, and an unwelcome one at that. He could hardly think of any reason for Rayman to go there, however there were a few rumors–such as a great, bountiful treasure locked within its deepest tunnels, and the fabled Elixir of Life being in Jano’s possession. If Ales had a guess as to why Rayman would dare set foot in a den of nightmares, the elixir would be it.

Calming down a hair, he started to mutter to himself, “He is a very good dream, he can barely stand near a group of Antitoons without looking uncomfortable… So he does have a high enough resistance to nightmares on the whole…” he scratched his chin in contemplation, “I haven't noticed any difference in him, and perhaps it could have even been a Teensie’s age ago… He seems fine, so it’s very unlikely that Jano got to him…”

Ales turned his attention away from his bike, and contemplated the question, his head tilted slightly upward. He tapped the wrench he was holding against his free palm, and hummed lightly.

“I have thought of making prosthetics,” he eventually concluded, “But I can't say there have been many opportunities for me to make them. Most limbs that need replacing can be made with magic; especially for other Limbless. Tch, I’m sure the local Teensie doctors would be displeased to find me stealing their job!” He sighed and leaned back, drumming his fingers against a metal panel, “Of course, there's also the matter of the Glade being a bit old-fashioned when it comes to technology–between the pirates and myself, I can almost not blame them for being close-minded–so most anyone that needs a replacement would prefer a magical one, anyway.” his nose scrunched up slightly.

“I could go on a spiel about how robotic limbs would be better, anyway…” he twirled the wrench around in his hand, “But I'll spare you the details, for now.”

He shrugged and resumed his work, continuing to fasten a bolt to the chassis of his bike, “I’ve made plenty of robots–and by extension, an unsightly amount of robotic limbs–it's not out of the question.” he couldn’t help but grin, “I could even make androids, if I was so inclined.” but the smile quickly faded, and he shook his head.

“Habits?” he hopped from one foot to the other, emulating the voice of the Magician, “Certainly not!” He made a showy gesture with his hands, “What ever could give you that idea?” 

“To be frank,” Ales proclaimed, “The Magician’s style wasn't that difficult to emulate. A pink sweater, some oversized buttons, and a jacket, if I was so inclined. As a matter of fact…” his hand reached for the brim of his hat–different from the Magician’s, but the gesture put the idea across, “The top hat did most of the work. Without it, I would have had a much harder time! Honestly, I looked nothing like him!”

Straightening his back, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. A sly grin was on his face, “Besides, there was a spare set of clothes in there. Made it pretty easy,” he chuckled darkly, “You’d be surprised how much fit in that thing!”

Chest falling inwards, Ales turned his head away and frowned. Seemed he felt a little bad for making that joke. He sniffed and rolled his “shoulders” back into place.

Surrounded by Teensies that shifted about uncomfortably, Ales was far from unfamiliar with this sight. It was one that haunted him since it happened two centuries ago. An entire town ablaze; homes and workplaces gone in the blink of an eye, lives snuffed out in an instant. It was just as painful now, as it was then.

Ales closed his eyes upon seeing this nightmare. He wanted to claim that he was almost numbed by the sight. But it still evoked his ire. It still filled him with unbearable sorrow… The death of his loved ones. The inaction of the Teensies. Being prevented from looking for survivors amidst the chaos…

"Why are you still here?"  { from a random meme because i thought it was interesting :] }

Having taken the form of a Teensie, Ales was silent at first. Head tilted away from Houdini, he shifted slightly, either having no clue how to answer such a weighted question, or seriously contemplating it, as if it had a deeper meaning.

At first, he simply shrugged, although he knew that wouldn't suffice as an answer. There was a part of him I didn't want to answer–not truthfully, anyway–due to pride, or a seeded fear that had been planted in his heart a long time ago.

“Given our history, I imagine it is strange that I'm still around, I haven’t been exactly kind,” he turned his head slightly, so he could look Houdini in the eye, “If you'd rather I leave, I'll get out of your hair and take the Antitoons with me. I’m sure it’ll be nice to brush your hair in peace, again. Though I can’t guarantee any peace and quiet in a place like the Glade.” His nose scrunched up with a smirk and short laugh, but his expression quickly returned to a serious one. 

He rose to his feet by hopping off of his chair. He stood still for a few seconds, then tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. He clearly wanted to say more, as much as he didn't want to admit anything. He shook his head, and before Houdini could speak up, he started for the door. He paused within the frame, one hand resting against the door.

His shape shifted, losing the connecting limbs between his arms and legs, and growing a full head taller. New form illuminated and framed by the light outside, he was now a limbless, with blue locks hanging over half of his face. Turning his obscured eye back inside, he sighed.