#I KNOW ITS MARCH SHUTTUP

[saint-sebastian-coded]

might fuck around and make a femslash february prompt list

[underthekillingmxxn-a-blog]

Drabble

(long post, contains mention of domestic abuse/violence, graphic violence, and blood)

Like many of his recent nightmares, Adrian’s dream took place in an endless, dark maze, with mysteriously lit looking glasses of various sizes covering the black and infinitely tall but otherwise nondescript walls. Wind howled like the tortured, simultaneously mouse quiet and impossibly loud. The Blade, wearing his usual gear, quietly toured his current path, until he reached a two way intersection, marked by a large, square mirror.

A horrific beast, a mishmash of both animal parts and impossible anatomy, stared at him with his six, glowing amber eyes, grinning floppy ear to floppy ear with his crocodilian maw. The former assassin recognized its form: it resembled one of Pontiff’s Sulyvahn’s enormous beasts, though he couldn’t quite recall how he knew. Perhaps in the two or so days missing from his memory of trekking through until he collapsed in Anor Londo held the answer. 

For a few weeks now, it haunted him while he slept. It certainly didn’t feel any better than the dreams of falling to his death or being murdered by his father.

In fact, these often poked at similarly deep seated fears.

In any case, the beast often took on a form different from the last, sometimes even morphing in the dream. This time, from his mouth sprouted tusks like that of a boar, and from the end of his tail curled a cat-like tail.

Interrupting his train of thought, the beast spoke in a distorted version of his own voice, thick Vinheimian accent and all, in an impossibly low register as he clicked his talons on the ground, “How good of you to return, love. Waiting for your slumber is always so dull.” He broke into raucous, mocking laughter that raised the tiny hairs on the back of the former assassin’s neck.

Adrian began to stalk down the path to the east, his pace swift.

“Oh, you think pretending I don’t exist is going to work?” the beast taunted as he followed the exiled Vinheimian through the mirrors, his size adjusting to that of the mirror. Just like the man he reflected, he moved with incredible grace, even on his four massive paws, each easily larger than Adrian’s head. 

Suddenly, the hallway the towering Darkmoon Knight stomped down changed, dream reality rippling as it came to an abrupt end just so the Unkindled could stare at his Shadow. In the time he only observed it through the corners of his eyes, it gained another pair of limbs that ended in human-like hands, with fingers too long.

The monster sat on his large haunches, looking Adrian in the eye. “Face it, Adrian,” he sneered, throat thrumming with dark chuckles, “You have twice the anger of your father, and to top it off, you savor violence and bloodshed like a fine wine. You didn’t become your father; you became worse. I’m sure he’d be so proud that his rotten apple of a son became an awe-inspiringly gnarled and twisted tree.” His gaping rib cage vibrated and shuddered with perverse amusement.

Clenching his fists, the Blade stared at him defiantly, staying quiet as he seethed. “Prove yourself right, why don’t you?” the beast yawned, covering his mouth with one of his deformed humanoid hands before laying down on his belly.

“I don’t have to listen to his,” Adrian growled as he turned on his heels, cape swishing behind him as he started in the opposite direction.

Standing up on all four legs, the brute leaped after the man he reflected, stampeding from mirror to mirror until he surpassed Adrian.

Instead of changing the interior, his unconscious mind that produced not only the dream but the pursuing monster merely let the Darkmoon Knight scamper down the other side of the intersection. The mirrors on either side of him began to change, some of them no longer rectangular or square but uneven, polygonal shapes, a few even shattered in places. 

As they both ran, the brute, conjured from his own sleeping mind, hissed in a sinister whisper, “What makes you think at the first chance, you won’t do what your old man did? You remember how your mother used to scream as he battered her, only hitting her harder with each noise of pain? How his belt would leave welts on your oldest sister’s pale legs, and that’s why she hated skirts and dresses?” the beast’s thin lips curled away from his sharp, yellowed fangs as drool dripped from his maw, “Oh...and what he did to you.”

The former assassin stopped in front of the mirror containing the beast and punched it with his iron-encased left fist with a belligerent cry. As the glass shattered, the monster guffawed as his voice changed to match Adrian’s exactly.

“You are the walking embodiment of his sins. You think violence will solve your problem? Typical. Killing will only make you turn more into...” the brute’s form danced to the next mirror, standing on his back legs and gesturing the talons of his hands, “this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself at night. You love the way blood feels when it splatters on your tainted skin, love how it tastes like metal when you swish your tongue over the droplets on your lips, love how warm it feels on your blade. You will never be saved. You will fall as a Blade when you give into that twitchy need to destroy. Velka’s crows will capture you, and every night they will tear your liver out for the Sins that crawl like maggots up your spine.”

Adrian marched up to the mirror and looked at his Shadow beast in the eye. “Your point?” he asked, tilting his head as his nostrils flared and his right eyelid twitched in rage. His nose touched the cold surface of the looking glass

“You aren’t deserving of mercy, just as you give no mercy or pity to those you hunt. Such nerve, you have, to call yourself a man when you are but a brute walking on two legs,” the creature replied, similarly pressing his elongated snout up to his side of the mirror. His hot breath steamed it up on his side.

Truly, the dreamer expected the beast to just jump through.

Beat.

Then, the Blade said between clenched teeth, “Tell me something I don’t already know, Adrian.” Even his sleeping mind knew it was more or less a discussion with himself.

A scaled, gangly arm reached out from the mirror, the surface rippling around it like water, and grabbed him by the collar of the vest.

“You destroy everything you touch.” The nose came forward until it started nudging him backwards. Then, the beast shoved the former assassin into the other wall hard. Had it been real, it would have knocked the wind out of him, but instead the human Adrian blinked in shock.

In a seductive whisper, the brute spoke in his ear,“Your hands are always covered in blood, because that’s what you turn everything you get your claws on into.” The hand and fanged mouth receded into the mirror, then the form of the monster vanished.

Brushing himself off, the Blade shakily stood up, looking up and around as if he could find an escape to this labyrinth. As he turned, it changed again, ends becoming new halls, old corridors becoming ends, the ceiling becoming its own segment up above. Eventually, he just chose a path, and darted down it.

Slowly, the amount of mirrors on the walls dwindled ‘til there were no more. The featureless walls became lush, green hedges, though the lighting stayed dim.

He could feel the beast's breath on his neck, and as he ran, he heard soft, manic laughter in his ears.

In the dream, at least, he did not tire out, as he ran the equivalent of miles, pursued by himself.

The further he dashed down the endless hallway, the louder the laughter became, until he clutched at his ears and shut his eyes.

“Shut up, shut up.”

Opening him again, he nearly collided with another looking glass on the hedge. First, it reflected nothing, but Adrian blinked again, and instead he looked at what he first thought was his own remarkably clear reflection.

But a quick look revealed it wasn’t his true reflection. The man staring at him was drenched, head to toe, in blood. Only his false reflection’s eyes weren’t red. Even his teeth, as his lips pulled into a grin so wide it was physically impossible, was soaked. It dripped off him, oozed from him, until distinguishing it from his Shadow’s body was not possible.

“He’ll go Hollow, because of you, as he waits for the day you’ll stop being so monstrous. The day that will never come, because you’ll do anything to keep him safe. Even if it means embracing the Dark. Even if it means slaughtering all around him.”

The blood began to pour of the mirror and onto the black void of the floor. Some of it began to flow up.

“Shut. Up.” Adrian shut his eyes again and held his hands over his ears.

Two damp, far too warm hands wrapped around him, pulling him into a foul, bitter mockery of a lover’s embrace. Hot puffs of air ghosted on his lips before a mouth full of fangs tenderly kissed him, clamping down on the Blade’s lower lip. No real pain registered, but the man yelped in pain anyways.

“But I will always love and accept you. I will always be here, even if no one else will ever love a wretch like you.”

Widely opening his eyes, the Darkmoon Knight stared at the version on himself dripping with blood before sinking his teeth into the Shadow’s neck and viciously tearing. His mouth tasted not of blood but the thick bitterness of morning.  Muscle squished and squelched. The brute laughed heartily, taking off the dreaming man’s Pharis’s Hat and running his hands through the hair beneath affectionately. Adrian pulled away, flesh between his teeth, and spat, only to repeat the process in the same place that gushed blood until there was a river at their feet.

“Proving me right, my monster?”

Clamping savagely down until he hit bone, the Blade hissed “Shuddup” against muscle as his nails became claws and raked his Shadow’s back, shredding through leather and chainmail and skin.

“Shut up shut up shuttup shuddup.”

He repeated it like a prayer.

“Oh, Adrian, how you prove yourself right and prove yourself deserving of your fate.”

Gasping, Adrian finally woke up, chanting, “Shut up,” in a whisper, his hands flailing about like they did in his dream. The blankets had long since slid off him onto the floor, and yet head to toe, his nude form was slick with sweat. In the darkened room, he blinked as his mind realized he was awake.

His tearing eyes focused and adjusted to the dim light until he realized his adolescent puppy stood in front of the bed, as if anticipating he’d attempt to walk in his sleep. Through it all, she remained remarkably calm.

Sighing and darkly chuckling, the Blade leaned over and petted Selene’s head. 

“Just a dream. Just a dream,” he told himself as he checked his hands as if expected bloody claws. Just bitten fingernails and callouses. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he sat up and softly, silently cried.