#// hoooguh i worked on this for way too long. Yay yippie wahoo

[battle-subway-ghost]

Unraveling.

// Please read the tags beforehand, <3

Paris leaned against the tree trunk, making a desperate attempt at catching his breath. He had been running for- He didn't know, probably hours? He checked the time with his phone, but it still read 3:27 A.M. Same as it had been for probably hours- He didn't know. he couldn't tell… He checked the battery icon at the top- it was nearly dead. The signal may have read "SOS," but he had already tried multiple times to call for help. Nothing.

He wasn't about to try again- Something about the definition of insanity… and instead he put his phone back into his pocket, properly shutting it off to try to conserve what little battery was left. Paris had the urge to sit down for a little while; the muscles on his legs burned, and he was completely exhausted from running for so long. Stupid choice- he knew it wasn't a good idea to run around in the fog like a headless Torchic while he was already lost, but every time he considered standing still and waiting for this stupid, stupid fog to fade, he thought back to…

That. He shuddered, trying to focus on anything else besides that voice- his own voice, feeling a familiar chill crawl up his spine as he started to grow tense again. He could just imagine approaching footsteps- those hollow eyes, the-

He felt something seeping onto his hand, and cried out in surprise as he immediately moved away from the tree, trying to shake off the…

Black ink. Leaking out from the tree like sap. Paris stared at his hand, feeling his head pound at the sight of the stuff… He did his best to wipe it off of his hand, though he didn't have much besides his own clothes to do so. Still- it was better than nothing, at this point.

…He wasted no time getting on the move again, wandering further into the fog, trying to listen closely for any odd noises or disturbances. He couldn't trust his eyes anymore, as the fog had grown so thick that he could barely see past the length of his arm. Paris tread carefully, avoiding tripping on any loose roots or branches on the forest floor. How big was this forest, anyways? Surely he would've found his way out by now.

Then again, this wasn't the same place he had entered however long ago now. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew. He just had to keep walking now, he wasn't even sure if this would get him out, but he couldn't stay still. Not right now.

Paris stopped in his tracks as he heard a twig snap to his left. He turned immediately, nearly giving himself whiplash with how quickly he moved. He instinctively backed away, already tensing up to run-

And there it was.

A Thievul. the Thievul. That damned thing, staring back at him with those hollow, white eyes.

At last.

Paris charged at him, pursuing him as he turned tail and fled. The Thievul was swift, but he was determined to catch him, maybe if he did, it'd put an end to this torment. He wove through the trees with a precision Paris couldn't quite match, as he seemed to blend in with the fog at times- like he was about to fade into it. Paris pressed on, despite the burning in his lungs and the stiffness in his legs.

He finally got close enough to where he could tackle that thing, grabbing him with his hands-

Only to grasp at nothing but air.

Paris hit the ground, falling face first into the dew-covered grass. It took him a moment to recoup and process what happened, as he scrambled to get up, looking around for the Thievul. He was nowhere to be found, as if he vanished into thin air. The fog was starting to clear up a bit, and from what Paris could tell, he had been lead to a clearing in the woods.

He was fuming. He had gone here for nothing! Nothing at all! Revenge- Or even just closure, simply gone! Like that! No fanfare- no anything.

He yanked at his hair, yelling out of pure rage. Rage at the thievul, at himself for allowing it to escape, frustration over this entire stupid situation and this stupid fog and this stupid forest and EVERYTHING-

He stopped after a few moments passed, and finally opening his eyes, watery from the threat of crying. He looked up, seeing- black… patches? He blinked a few times, trying to clear up the blurriness in his eyes. Surely-

No. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The fog had receeded at an unnaturally fast rate, but… There was darkness. the inky-black dark of the ink, starting to spread through tears in the scenery, almost. He could feel the panic building in his chest, attempting to run the other way, only to find that the ground underneath him was starting to fade into the same black ink that was beginning to surround him. Paris screamed, trying to pull himself out, only to find that every time he put his foot down he simply got dragged deeper into the inky abyss. He could feel the substance clinging to his skin, unnaturally warm, almost pulsating… like breathing-

Something painful tugged against him, finally prompting him to glance down. his arms- the muscles were starting to twitch and twist unnaturally, his skin shifting around to compensate for the changes underneath. It was agonizing, muscles beginning to stretch and tear, before attempting to mend themselves again.

He howled in agony, nearly collapsing into the ink entirely, barely able to steady himself. it burned. His right arm in particular was getting the worst of it, the sensation similar to what he imagined it'd feel like having your arm ripped off.

…And much to his horror, it was actually hanging loose when he checked. the skin peeled away like wet cardstock paper, revealing red thread coiling around the remnants of the arm, as well torn ligaments and muscles trying to keep everything together- to no avail. It broke apart entirely, and fell into the ink below, slowly sinking down. There was no blood, instead, frayed and torn red thread hung down from what was left.

Paris collapsed- finally, into the ink. It was a miracle he had even been able to stay standing for so long, given that it seemed like he could fall apart like bad paper mache at any second now. He sputtered and coughed as he accidentally breathed in the ink, trying to pull his head back up. He couldn't breathe- it clung to him like tar, pulling him down further- further into the abyss.

Everything was falling apart. the trees falling apart like flayed seams- unraveling before his eyes, leaving nothing behind besides the pitch black abyss.

His head finally sank underneath. The last thing he saw was the bright red string- cutting through the dark abyss as it drifted upwards.

He shut his eyes, and the searing pain melted away.

Silence, at last.