Feel free to track this blog however this is an exclusive RP between myself and 010 player that will work with Nightmare and Infinity.
As a warning, this is taking place where Nightmare is still very much decapitated so blood and minor gore will come into play.
The days after his confrontation with Aeron hadn't been so glorious, he had spent one evening just laying and resting... allowing for the blood to finally turn back into that black liquid that everyone had come to know him for. This would allow the muscles that still connected into the sides of his neck and flesh to harden and thicken... turning into very thick and very dangerous looking quills. Almost like those of a porcupine save for the fact that they just weren't as long. The pain that was flaring from his neck though was nothing compared to the deep fear that he felt in the pits of his chest. He was, without a doubt... terrified. Resting for the evening and then the next he was up and standing...
Blinded, and without any knowledge of what was or would be around him... sounds were startling him... he was frightened at the slightly touch of a hoof on the ground. Running, mooing, roaring... all of those sounds made that blackened heart in his chest pound with a rightous fury that some could likely see. His breaths were quick and short due to the panic that was rising up in him and if it weren't for friends joining him the giant blue stag would have likely fallen due to that heart of his being over worked from the panic.
With the sounds and sudden movements just driving him further into that terrified state the giant would cower back and slowly make to move away... bumbling into whatever happened to get in his way. Which was mostly trees for now, he would stumble into them head first and jerk back cowering slightly before clawing at the ground and feeling the roots... he would claw a bit more and then slowly walk around the tree to continue on in his blind path. Bumping into trees as he went, reeling back before trying to let out a sound that would be a frantic attempt to get someone to come. Anyone... though preferably a friend or someone that he knew well.
Shaking his head and lowering it down slightly there was a heavy sigh to come out of the giant before he walked off again, thick black quills quivering and moving... almost like spiders legs as that skull was slowly being dragged back up to cover the skeletal human face that was currently shown. He tripped every now and then on a stump or rock but seemed to be doing well until he rammed head long into a massive birch tree which made the blue stumble back and lower his head down again roaring out in a gruttled and very muttled up cry that would likely not be answered.
Clawing at the base of the tree the Nightmare just shook his head and finally gave up, defeated as he circled around before pressing his side tightly against the tree and laying down. Curling into himself as he wrapped his tail up and around that face, hiding it from everyone who might come by. The giant was trying in some made and insane way to make himself seem smaller than he actually was... and thus instintively curled more tightly into himself... shaking a bit out of fear as well.
0 scrapes the tree's trunk with its antlers, sharpening their tines to fine points. The wind wipes the weeping willow, its pale leaves brushing up against its nape. It swipes its head sideways, slashing at the bark, leaving deep scores in the willow's trunk.
I feel like...I am preparing for war.
0 takes one step forward, giving the tree a final strike, and then it moves two steps back. It inclines its head in different directions, observing its work.
Sap dribbles down the brown bark; tree's blood.
Pale at first, almost yellow, then it...it deepens in color. It turns redder—and darker...as dark and red as the blood of deer.
Off-white pus forms on the edges of the slit wounds.
Knife's kill.
Dagger's death.
Sword's strike.
0 roars at the bleeding tree:
"NO!"
But the tree only turns black and blue with bruises, still bleeding from those wounds it has made.
0 shakes its head and roars again: "No!"
0 rears and punches the tree. It bleeds.
0 whirls around and kicks it. I sob.
0 then runs, splashing, into the Pond.
Ankle-deep.
Knee-deep.
Waist-deep.
0 swims through the water, icy outside yet somehow hot inside its mouth.
0 spits it out, continuously.
The bridge over the Pond’s river comes into view.
With a strong kick, and electric pain in its shoulder blades, 0 comes flying out of the water and onto the bridge’s stone bricks. Thoroughly soaked, shivering with cold and warmth, it stares down at its hooves and watches as saliva-mixed water runs down in a line from its mouth and onto the gray stone.
Soon, there is a sufficient amount of water to make a puddle.
And in the puddle it sees, not its own reflection—no, its reflection is but a mere black shadow—but the shadow of the moon behind it. It turns around and looks up to see it.
A breeze courses through its fur, and the moon shivers for it. Stars are twinkling in the nighttime sky.
0 tries to count their winks, but it cannot get beyond the number "one."
one. One. ONE.
...
... ...
... ... ...
... ...
...
0 opens its eyes.
Had it passed out?
0 lifts its face to the air, sniffing.
0’s nose wrinkles at the scent it catches.
Blood.
0 jumps to its hooves, looking around frantically, trembling. Another hallucination? 0 wonders, sniffing.
But...no—it seems...different, somehow.
0 turns its nose away, but only for a split second, before it decides to follow the scent trail.
It gets stronger too soon for it.
But, just as soon, it sees the source of the smell.
0 is genuinely surprised by this deer's size.
It has to be about twice the size of the extinct Irish elk.
Much bigger than it.
0’s head tilts. Then a shiver runs down its spine—there is a familiar itching at its brain.
The itching...like with...with Herla.
This deer...who is he?
Why has the itching returned?
Curiously, but also cautiously, 0 steps towards the deer.
0’s voice comes out, low and gentle; it somehow manages to keep the fear out of it. The fear of having broken this one's trust, without even knowing it.
Sleeping, he has fallen into a rest and sleep. Weakened and just in dire need of resting while things happened and while that skull of his crawled it's way back up to his neck and throat. Low, slow breaths came out of him before something hit those ears... and instant panic took place.
Scrambling quickly to his feet, the giant hit into the tree before slowly slinking to a side of it and staring towards the source of the voice that floated to those ears of his. Breathing, panicked and heavy and he stood there and cowered back slightly. He couldn't see it, couldn't see anything that was the source of this strange voice that he didn't quite know.
It was the fear that Aeron might be tormenting his mind again that made him so skittish right now "Stay... back..." He muttered out softly, voice was barely readable or audible in the least since it was coming from the humanoid skull that was revealed. Garbled, gibberish but still a language in it's own right.
—
"Your efforts are insignificant! I carry you to your deaths!"
0 is unmoving, but only because it has planted its hooves into the ground, hooves that have become almost like claws as they grasp at the firm soil. The other's head...neck...entire body--what has happened to him? Is he even a deer? Or is he just...another hallucination?
It can hardly make out the...deer's words. "Stay...back"? 0 wonders, its eyes becoming wide with fearful worry. It stares at him, debating with itself, wondering if it should leave or not.
After a while of staring, 0 finally manages: "Wh--...what is the matter?" It turns broadside to the other, still looking, still thinking. It is ready to run off, but as that thought passes through its head, the horrid itching gets worse, causing 0 to wince, forcing it to face the thing and stay where it is. Its legs tremble, cloven hooves digging into the earth.
Cowering, he backed up ever so slightly as he felt the different signs from the creature... his paws taking in the vibrations of the soil nearby and feeling every little dig into the dirt. He hissed softly, a garbled sound from the throat as he continued to back away... it was out of fear and a reaction to defend himself. If the beast had no idea where the other was they could easily shred him... destroy him if they wanted to and he wasn't taking such a chance and continued to inch himself away ever so slightly.
When asked the question of what was the matter he couldn't quite believe that was the question this stranger wanted to ask. Really... what was the matter? Could it not see that he was in utter pain and agony? Growling out in a cowered position he shifted his weight slightly "Can you not see as well?" He muttered to the best of his abilities... trying to get that skull to work for him "Attacked and nearly killed... and you ask what is the matter... you are either blind or merely oblivious..."
—
"Your efforts are insignificant! I carry you to your deaths!"
This is a trick. It has to be. This--this THING. It cannot be real--it cannot!
Tears in the eyes; it blinks them away.
"Who are you?" it asks weakly, trying to sound strong. "Why are you doing this to me?"
It is beginning to become convinced that this cannot be of its own doing, of its mind alone--it has to be someone else. It has to!
Any minute, this thing will try to attack me. It might succeed in landing some hits. It might actually be able to hurt me! I cannot run...cannot--cannot hide! Reminding itself of the terrible scratching at its brain, still there, still digging. Not as hard, not as deep: not so long as it is near this thing.
What is happening to me? 0
What is happening to me?
0 scrapes the tree's trunk with its antlers, sharpening their tines to fine points. The wind wipes the weeping willow, its pale leaves brushing up against its nape. It swipes its head sideways, slashing at the bark, leaving deep scores in the willow's trunk.
I feel like...I am preparing for war.
0 takes one step forward, giving the tree a final strike, and then it moves two steps back. It inclines its head in different directions, observing its work.
Sap dribbles down the brown bark; tree's blood.
Pale at first, almost yellow, then it...it deepens in color. It turns redder—and darker...as dark and red as the blood of deer.
Off-white pus forms on the edges of the slit wounds.
Knife's kill.
Dagger's death.
Sword's strike.
0 roars at the bleeding tree:
"NO!"
But the tree only turns black and blue with bruises, still bleeding from those wounds it has made.
0 shakes its head and roars again: "No!"
0 rears and punches the tree.
It bleeds.
0 whirls around and kicks it.
I sob.
0 then runs, splashing, into the Pond.
Ankle-deep.
Knee-deep.
Waist-deep.
0 swims through the water, icy outside yet somehow hot inside its mouth.
0 spits it out, continuously.
The bridge over the Pond’s river comes into view.
With a strong kick, and electric pain in its shoulder blades, 0 comes flying out of the water and onto the bridge’s stone bricks. Thoroughly soaked, shivering with cold and warmth, it stares down at its hooves and watches as saliva-mixed water runs down in a line from its mouth and onto the gray stone.
Soon, there is a sufficient amount of water to make a puddle.
And in the puddle it sees, not its own reflection—no, its reflection is but a mere black shadow—but the shadow of the moon behind it. It turns around and looks up to see it.
A breeze courses through its fur, and the moon shivers for it. Stars are twinkling in the nighttime sky.
0 tries to count their winks, but it cannot get beyond the number "one."
one.
One.
ONE.
...
... ...
... ... ...
... ...
...
0 opens its eyes.
Had it passed out?
0 lifts its face to the air, sniffing.
0’s nose wrinkles at the scent it catches.
Blood.
0 jumps to its hooves, looking around frantically, trembling.
Another hallucination? 0 wonders, sniffing.
But...no—it seems...different, somehow.
0 turns its nose away, but only for a split second, before it decides to follow the scent trail.
It gets stronger too soon for it.
But, just as soon, it sees the source of the smell.
0 is genuinely surprised by this deer's size.
It has to be about twice the size of the extinct Irish elk.
Much bigger than it.
0’s head tilts. Then a shiver runs down its spine—there is a familiar itching at its brain.
The itching...like with...with Herla.
This deer...who is he?
Why has the itching returned?
Curiously, but also cautiously, 0 steps towards the deer.
0’s voice comes out, low and gentle; it somehow manages to keep the fear out of it.
The fear of having broken this one's trust, without even knowing it.
"Hello...?"