#devadames; the other side of the mirror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crackedscatteredreflections · 2 years

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He could feel each second as the clock ticked. He sat there, unmoving, uncaring, yet consumed by his thoughts.

He said he wouldn't be back, he was a liar. For as many times as Dark tried to stay away from this godawful place, he couldn't leave for long.

Couldn't or wouldn't, that's what Celine would say. And oddly enough, he didn't know which it was. Drumming his fingers, tapping along with the tick of the clock, Dark stares at the time....Time. What an awful thing it was. How much time did he lose within these walls? How much time did he waste playing along with the pathetic little game Actor whipped up for the lot of them? Too much. And yet, for him, it never stops. Time keeps moving forwards, never back. He is sure that if Annus were alive, the fellow would have something off-beat to say about how he was wasting his.

Dark sets down his drink, the noise echoing through the room as the clock gets louder in his head. The former current ? mayor walks through the empty dusty hallways. He does hear the screams and cries of agony that bounce off the walls of the haunted manor, but at this point, it is nothing but white noise. Speaking of, a faint ringing has begun, but it wasn't from him. Well, not a him that he'd like to associate himself with.

There was that blasted fool, Damien. The man stared at him as he passed the mirrors or anything with a reflection in the halls. Dark knew what he wanted, knew why those pathetic eyes were pleading with him. Pleading for a fight, and one that he'd get.

"You still decide to follow me after all this time." The demon bitterly spits at his reflection. Moving was a bit of a hassle at any given moment, made worse with what was in his system, so he decided to stop in front of a single mirror and lean on a table. His hair falling in front of his face.

His far neater and well put together self looks ashamed of this, "I don't have a choice. We are the same person."

"We are not the same." Dark slams his fist to the side, giving a warning for Damien to keep his pretty little mouth in check. "I haven't been you for a very long time, and thank God for that. You are insufferable."

"And you are inebriated." He states with distaste.

"Obviously." Dark shoots back with annoyance.

"Why so much to drink? Are things not looking up? They are far better than they have ever been."

"You tell me since we are allegedly the same." He was in no mood to hear about the problems eating away at his mind. Hence the alcohol, which seems to have made it worse.

"I can't. You won't let me see what is wrong with you You don't let anyone see."

"I cannot fathom why. Perhaps it is due to your naivety." He grins with malice. Dark purposefully skips over the obvious reference to his beloved.

Damien stares at the large hole in Dark's chest. The man had gotten irritated and instead of talking, he decided to dig a hole to numb the feeling. When that didn't work, he turned to drinking as much as possible. "You are naive as well then."

"What." Dark huffs, of course this is when Damien decides to be cryptic about their same mind. He hoped that since Damien was the cause of his newest headache, he would be able to feel it too. "Stop speaking vaguely and come out with it already."

"You are naive to think I'll go away. You've buried me plenty of times, but just like how you came back here, I resurface. Stop. Hiding."

There it was, the conversation he never missed. Dark began the regrettably long walk back to the kitchen. If he is going to be forced to have this conversation, fine. He'd do it on his own terms though.

Once again, Damien follows side by side in the reflective surfaces throughout the halls, watching Dark move the same as he does.

"Will you quit your staring." The demon wasn't a fan of eyes tearing into him already, but he knew what Damien was focused on in particular.

"Has it gotten worse?" The calm mayor keeps his gaze fixated on Dark's chest. The thorns were still there, slowly growing.

"Yes and no." No need to deny it. He was a dying man that could never quite stay dead. Dark had to admit, he did wonder what would happen once everything was taken over. Would it even get to that point? Either way, they never got better or worse. It was a constant state of pain he was used to.

"What is that then?" Damien points at the bud forming in their shared chest. He hadn't seen that before. The apparition wasn't condescending with his tone yet.

And apparently Dark hadn't seen it either, "...what?" He attempts to pull at the bud, the moment he does, he feels intense nausea. Dark was dizzy due to the mass amounts of booze in his system and decides to stop pulling before he looses his liquid filled stomach.

A bit too late for that though, the buds appear to be sensitive because the moment he let go, he vomited as another nausea wave hit. Dark coughs as something comes up and out of his throat, Damien speaking indistinctly in the background. Something something the usual worry, it was all the same with him. Dark wouldn't be able to focus on what was said anyways, not once he saw what came out of him.

Pink flower petals stained with blue on the ends. Dark and Damien's brows furl with confusion until the demon once again is brought down with his stomach lurching. For a few minutes, and thankfully in a near by trashcan, Dark expels the contents of his stomach. Ignoring the pain he feels, he digs through the murky liquid, spotting those same petals. Now, when he pulls at one, an entire flower comes with it. He is quite unaffected with the thorns attached to the stem, but the floral piece in his hands is startling.

"I assume you didn't know this was going to happen either?"

For once, Dark doesn't snap or glare, he nods and speaks to his old self. "No...I had no idea. Something tells me this is worse than we thought. Even I don't know what this is."

"Are you sure it's not-"

"No." He firmly denies it. While it looks similar to a certain love disease, this doesn't feel like it. If that were the case, he should have died a long time ago. This one doesn't feel like it has to do with love at all actually.

The ticking he had forgotten about earlier grows louder, both of them no longer certain that it's not in their head.

"We need to tell him." Damien looks far more worried than usual.

"No." Dark manages to get back on his feet and clean up the mess in the hall. He returns back to the kitchen with his reflection being oddly quiet through the whole ordeal. He doesn't know why but he elaborates, "Telling him would accomplish nothing. It has yet to get out of hand."

"Do you even hear yourself?? Clearly not since I've been trying for the past few years. And still! 'Not out of hand'?? You just vomited up almost an entire bouquet!"

"Shut up. It's nothing compared to other things we've been through."

"What are you so damn afraid of. Why act like a coward now?"

"I don't fucking know." He meant for it to come out harsher than it did, Dark wasn't paying attention though. He was too busy wondering what this new thing was. It fascinated him instead of concerning.

"Good God, can you focus on something other than your odd ways of coping for a moment?" Damien goes on a tangent before Dark very quietly makes note of something, interrupting him. Typically that would infuriate Dames, and it did until it registered what Dark had stated.

"It stopped."

Dames pauses, it takes a moment for him to notice the lack of ambience in the home. The clock stopped. There was no noise, they weren't even in the same room as they were before. Yet neither of them had convinced the other to move their shared body. Where were they? The two had gotten so caught up in their passive aggressive argument that they had failed to notice the newer noise that surrounded them.

Breathing.

The manor was breathing.

#devadames; the other side of the mirror

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