Who: Pitch & Ash What: A nightmare Where: Dreamland When: Backdated to the dream plot Warnings/Rating: Dark imagery, upet Ash
It started as any other dream, green grass, blue skies, and a picnic under a large, leafy tree. It was the kind of simple, perfect times that Ashleigh missed most when she thought about the loss of her husband, and as such, it was the sort of things she dreamt about the most. Quiet, peace, his smile, and nothing but happiness. The sun was bright as it shone down over both of them, the shade from the tree tickling the border of their picnic spot, sweet grass and warm air. He was stretched out beside her on the blanket, dark hair, a ready smile, feet bare and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up above his elbows, while Ash was sitting beside him dressed in something summery and light, legs left bare and her hair pulled back in a braid at the nape of her neck. "I love you," she was murmuring, hand against his chest, panning down over his stomach and then back up, the sun glinting off the diamond of her wedding ring.
Pitch much preferred the dreams when he sat outside them, watching the display of whatever sweet little dreams came trickling out of human heads. Being inside them was entirely different and even he recoiled from the shockingly bright dream, too much sun, too much grass, too many living, happy things that he felt himself recoil from it all. Time to make it a bit more to his taste. Reaching out to one of the trees, black shifted over the bark and began spreading out through his touch, much like it might have had he been watching from the outside. Perhaps there was some benefit to being on the inside, but he would have to see, first. The blue, blue sky above began to turn dark until clouds mercifully began to blot out the hated son. "Such a sweet love," he murmured to himself as he watched the couple on the grass. It was the one thing children did not have, but he would hardly let that stop him.
When the sun's brightness started to dim, Ashleigh cast her gaze to the sky above, the clouds that were forming quickly, dark blots in a sky that had been crystal clear and blue only minutes before. "There's a storm rolling in, Matthew," Ashleigh said, giving a tap to her husband's chest to rouse his attention. Their flat wasn't so far away, within walking distance, but they still had a blanket to gather up, a picnic basket to pack up, and hope that they beat the storm. Together they worked as quickly as they could, and even in their hurry, in this moment of needing to get things done, there was a closeness and a sweetness about the couple. The way their hands brushed as they folded the blanket, the looks they passed one another. There was no mistaking the love between them as anything but, and even in a world that was growing progressively darker by clouds and the black that spread out with inky little fingers, it didn't touch them.
So sweet, so tender, so sickening. It was not any regular storm that rolled in, the clouds churning and darkening, the wind beginning to pick up. Keeping his hand on the tree, he leaned into it, resting his shoulder to the back of his palm as darkness spread. "All your light, all your love, and it means nothing here." It sickened him now to see such things, though somewhere in that black dungeon of a heart, locked far away from where the Fearlings could reach, Pitch knew he had been like that once. Before his daughter had been born, before he had chosen to guard the prison of those he captured. "Disgusting." He whispered to the wind as his darkness spread further, the trees beginning to blacken and warp, decaying leaves falling from their branches to tumble down between the loving couple.
The blanket was folded, tucked in on top of the picnic basket beneath the handles, and that was when Ashleigh looked up and saw the dead, decaying leaves falling from the branches, leaves that had been the brightest shade of healthy green only minutes prior. Her brow furrowed down, and slowly one hand came up to touch one of the leaves that had fallen in her hair, plucking it with two fingers as she watched it crumble into dust in her palm. "Matthew?" she asked, a worried note to her voice as she turned, looking for her husband. "Matthew? Something's wrong." That note of worry turned to panic, and she reached out for him, twining fingers with his to hold tight.
Such a precious thing to them... It wasn't enough to change their surroundings, they would clutch at one another and find some peace. No. It was she who turned towards him, and so his darkness spread up the man instead, a ripple of oil before his flesh started to peel back from muscle and bone.
The moment her eyes landed on Matthew, the darkness that spread up him, skin peeling, the stark white of bone showing beneath, Ashleigh let out a scream, scrambling backwards and away from him, one hand up to her face in horror. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she whimpered out, turning a fast circle as she sought help, more leaves floating down, dead and crumbling as they touched her.
No help would come for her. Certainly not from him, no, Pitch was not in the business of helping anyone but himself. Watching however? Making sure that her happy little dream turned into something much, much darker? That was much more pleasing.
"Ash? Ashleigh?" Matthew said as he reached out for her. "Help, Ash. It hurts..." More and more skin peeled back from his face, his hands, charred black around the edges like it had been burned. "Oh god, it hurts so much baby."
A strangled little noise of pure terror escaped from Ashleigh at that moment, his voice, the sound of pain in his voice, and for a horrifying moment, she couldn't drag her gaze away from the char of his skin. Her breath was coming in fast little pulls, and never before had the girl felt this much terror. "I don't know what to do, Matt!" she all but whimpered out, but despite her fear, the anxiety she was feeling, she didn't run any further away. No, this time she ventured back towards him, bit by bit, a hand reaching out though she was afraid to actually touch him.
A small smile began to spread Pitch's lips wide, his sharpened teeth fully visible as Ashleigh reached out for her dear, sweet Matt. And Matt, of course, reached out for her, only a chunk of his finger fell off, skin and muscle in a clump of dream-wrought decay, leaving only a blood stained bone behind.
"Oh God, Ashleigh, help me," came the piteous moan from the man decaying right before them.
The moment Matthew reached out towards her, Ashleigh felt a sliver of hope, but it shattered into pieces as flesh fell from his finger, the stark white of bone peering out, and there was no helping the scream that left her right then. Immediately, her hand was jerked back, the colour drained from her face, and that was what set her to running, dark hair trailing behind her as she fled. She was wrapped up in fear and cowardice, unable to stay there, to watch that, to be witness to his decay. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and salty, and there was no thought in her head other than escaping, running, hiding.
There was no running from Pitch though and no running from what was already in her own mind. He followed her leisurely, while the decaying Matthew jerked like a puppet on strings after her, wailing for her even as she ran away. "Such a tragedy," Pitch murmured as he followed her, every footstep leaving behind a growing pool of ink. Matthew was not so lucky, stumbling as bits and pieces of him dropped off until he was half-skinned and still crying out for his fleeing lady.
Every glance behind her saw Matthew still following, and every glance prompted another sob, her face red from crying. A stumble saw her going to her knees, hands just catching herself to keep from face planting into the dirt and grass, and she remained there, kneeling on her hands and knees on the ground. Her shoulders shook with every sob, dark hair plastered to her cheeks and forehead, his wails imprinted in her thoughts, becoming part of her. "I can't, I can't, I can't," she repeated over and over like a mantra, leaning forward with her forehead pressed to the ground, a tremor wracking through her.
How hard it was to amble along when one's legs barely worked. Pitch watched a few trees back, leaning languidly against a tree, at home within the burgeoning darkness of her dream. Matthew fell over her and whimpered.
"Please, Ash, I don't want to die. I'm going to die and you won't even look at me. Please, Ash..." He reached out for her, one skeletal finger running down her cheek. A small bit of his forearm came loose, squelching like a freshly stepped on slug before it fell to the ground in front of her.
While children were so much easier, so much purer, there were things that one of them could never imagine. Adults were wholly different, much less pure, but with a variety that Pitch found... enlivening.
When Matthew pressed against her back, heavy, far too heavy for her to simply shrug off, Ash let out a choked sob, her eyes squeezed shut tight against the horror of it all. She felt that skeletal finger run down her cheek, unnatural with the way it felt, and then the sound of flesh hitting the ground, the sound something she would not forget for a long while. Brown eyes opened slowly, taking in the thing laying directly in front of her, and that was enough to get her moving. Her scream echoed both here and in the real world, and it was all she could do to scramble away on hands and knees, pressing herself against a tree with her knees pulled up towards her chest, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said over and over again, her heart aching. "I love you, but I can't- I can't see you like this!"
Oh, her scream was sweet. Pitch inhaled deeply, his smile widening and no less warmer than it had been a few minutes ago. While he wasn't close enough to smell her fear, he could see it in every line of her body, in the desperate pleading he could hear and it was almost enough. The last of the leaves fell from the trees, leaving behind bare branches to snap and crack together.
"Baby, please," dream Matthew pleaded. "Please, just one last time."
Hands clapped over her ears, the sound of his pleas tattooing themselves on her thoughts, her memories, every aching moment. "I can't, Matt. I can't," she sobbed out, and she leaned forward, forehead pressed against her bent knees, the sounds of cracking branches falling, tumbling, not enough to keep her from hearing his voice. "I love you, but I can't," she repeated, her voice hitching, and she closed herself off as much as she could, a rock, a whimper, hands pressed against her ears, eyes screwed up tight.
"Ash, please," he whispered before his jaw fell away with a sharp, sudden slurp of tendon and tissue and fell on the ground at her feet. The rest of what he had to say came out muffled, a series of sounds without the enunciation of his tongue. It didn't stop him from curling one slick-boned hand around hers and squeezing.
"Where is all your love now?" Pitch murmured, words lost to the wind. Love was always so much easier when something was pretty, but when they started to show what was real, well, then it changed. He turned away with a small noise of displeasure as Matthew's body finished rotting and collapsed into a heap of bones and chunks of humanoid flesh on the ground before her.
As Matthew fell to pieces in front of her, the whispers and pleas finally quieting leaving the only sound the wind rushing through the air and her hard, short breaths, Ash completely fell apart. There was a sob that welled up deep inside her, spilling out as she huddled against the tree, arms over her head, every inch of her body shaking like the leaves that fell and crumbled around her. It was a helpless, vulnerable position, the grief from a couple years prior opening up into a fresh wound that threatened to undo her from the inside out. She was far past words, and in the world beyond, in the relative safety of her room, she sobbed there as well, pillow wet with tears, sheets and blankets damp with sweat.
Pain was not his meal of choice. Sobs did nothing for him, made him feel no rush, did not pump his veins full of power. He strode forward, the very edges of his long coat pushing at the dead leaves and mouldering underbrush until he could crouch down beside her, one pale, long fingered hand clasping her shoulder. "See what your love has done?" he asked her, soft as the wind through lifeless leaves as a fat, black spider came crawling out of Matthew's eye socket. "Look."
The hand upon her shoulder drew her away with a start, head lifting with tear-stained eyes, her cheeks and nose red from crying. One shaking hand swiped at her face, ridding it of some of the tears, and for a moment, there was calm. But only a moment, until she saw the spider crawling from the eye socket. A scream issued from her then, echoing through the dream world and into the real world beyond as Ash woke up in a start, the image of the spider still crawling from his eye socket imprinted behind her eyelids. The scream died out, fingers covering her mouth as she whimpered, great heaving breaths shaking her shoulders. A hand dropped down to curl around the wedding ring on the chain around her neck, and with stumbling steps, she got out of bed, made her way to the living room, and curled up there on the couch, the darkness of her room too much, needing the lightness of the living room, the place where shadows didn't lurk.