~Not Just a Shadow~

The way his eyes watched her sent a small shudder down her spine, her feathers ruffling slightly. But she kept a brave face. “Well, we can’t have that now can we~” She cooed tauntingly as the mini fairies placed the missing teeth in her hand and she stuffed them in a pouch. They had been searching while she kept the shade distracted.  While she was starting to feel sorry for him, he could be very well trying to guilt trip her… unsure of his plan made her heart hammer in her chest, though she did her best not to show it. 

 {;|| ♚ ||;} He was a starving wolf, staring right at a little bird. A little bird who could fly and feed herself and thrive. And he HATED her, with all the disdain his heart could muster.... and how exhausting that was---                       Yes, and as the teeth were dropped into her tiny little fingers, the Nightmare King who was now the slave of the darkness he had once called his sneered. His lips pulled back and away from his jagged teeth, from the very mouth that had gnawed and  gnashed at air with moans of agony caught in his throat, when the NIGHTMARES tore him open and left him as                                     NOTHING.     And it was then in his rage that the shadows at his feet began to twist and twine, growling amidst their jovial mockery. They were laughing, echoing in bouncing chuckles and crashing, gurgling snickers, whispering quiet insults of teasing to the Dark and the Light spirit. They were jesting, that was all. If they had any desire to harm either of them, they would have tried already.                                         After all, Fearlings are  U N P R E D I C T A B L E  .. ... ..... ........      "..... You Guardians always manage to surprise me.." Hi eye had grown blank, now. Heavy and sullen, filled with an unfamiliar sadness that had never been expressed in the Nightmare King before. For a moment, he seemed human. And then as soon as it had appeared, it vanished. He was biter once more.                            "You preach kindness, forgiveness,       Acceptance of each and every one, protection of the children..."           Saliva was gathering in his throat, now. He hadn't swallowed. He seemed to have forgotten, mad with the rage that began to seep through him. Forward he stepped, spitting with each word.                    "Yes, yes, protect the children from the BIG, SCARY BOOGEYMAN,     Beat him down until his ribs are broken and the very things he controlled DEVOUR HIM.....                                       Turn him away because he does not bring HOPE                                           or JOY                                             or PEACE...........                How truly ugly you all are..!"      It was clear, then. He had no pan. He didn't think that making her pity him would save him. All he wanted was to WRING HER NECK, like the damnable chicken she was! To make her feel terror and fear like never before! He was enraged, an animal!        And with that rage came the thrashing of fearling, the mocking turning into growling, hungry snarls....   The man that Kozmotis Pitchiner once was, that had seemed to appear for that one fraction of a moment, was gone. Pitch Black was starving for terror, for revenge, and the Fearlings were finally complying to his whim.

 {;|| ♚ ||;}   Had it been the olden days, the Golden Ages or perhaps even before he'd been banished to this hellhole,  he might've mocked her. Yes, he might've poked fun at this delicate little fairy, fallen into the shadows and allowed himself to torment her, now that she was here..                   The  fears of Guardians or other immortals were filling, delicious,           ..... and now he couldn't even remember the taste.      And again jagged teeth would bare in a sneer of disgust, head turning to the side, golden eyes flashing.   He was ASHAMED of what he was. What he'd become. And he was scared.                              "Ah, do pardon me.             I mean that figuratively, you know. They don't actually feed me.       The belief it takes from you, the terrors and doubt of the children.... they're morsels in the least....                           As you can see, they don't do well in nourishing."    A bitter  laugh, skeletal hand motioning to his chest, to each individual rib that stuck out against grey flesh. He smiled, wickedly, bitingly. He was practically murdering her in his mind.                             "....... It's not much, but I suppose it slows down starvation."