Outside of Hogsmeade

"Whatever..."

"Fear isn't real, it's just a delusion for the weak..."

(( I feel like Pitch would be the childish one that's like "YOUR JUST A DELUSION FOR THE WEAK." and then flee ))



Hesitation. And rage. Pitch gave a snarl, his fingers clenching tightly in on his palm, nails digging into his skin.
"Fear is an emotion implanted into every child, teenager, adult, and veteran. It lives and thrives in your puny mortal minds, feeding from your love of others, from your anger, your unease.... your dreams. And Fear? Fear will always destroy you, boy. You will always be open to its touch."

"my anger keeps fear at bay..."

The Nightmare King snapped.
He vanished and appeared again right before Brogan, a breath's width away, eyes burning with wild anger.

"Your anger feeds your fear..! It always will!"

He reached his hand out and struck him across the face with the back of his hand, "Just get out of my way."

Shock and anger.

Pitch's golden eyes were wide as plates as he gazed in the direction the slap had made his face turn.

His cheek stung painfully, and his whole body seemed to be frozen in the shock.

But this... this was unacceptable.

A low growl began within Pitch's throat before his hand shot out and grabbed Brogan by the front of his shirt.
A cruel grin was forming on his lips and he pulled him up. Weak as he might be, his anger could strengthen him for the time being.

".... Not so quickly, Boy.... you're in the realm of dreams and nightmares. And in this world, where pain is just as real as in your life, you will feel my torture..."

"Go ahead, pain doesn't frighten me." He stared into the monster's eyes without a moments waver of resolve.

"Then I will crush everything you care for..."


Pitch's sneer remained locked on his thin lips as he let go of Brogan and vanished.

The darkness remained. The Nightmare continued.

He was weaving himself into Brogan's mind, finding dislikes, things of the sort.


Ah.... perhaps this would cause him pain.

Within seconds, a swarm of what appeared to be ants clustered the black ground, their forms burning bright against the black ground below them. There was no gap large enough to step between. If he moved an inch c in any direction, the insects would be crushed, their pointless lives ended.
Such an amusing, pitiful dislike.... but even now, fear mattered not to Pitch. He only wanted to make Brogan weak. To make him feel pain and unease.



"Go on, then, boy.... walk.... and see how many lives you an destroy."

The Nightmare King, himself, appeared several yards away, walking smoothly. Each footstep fell on a clump of ants. In the nightmarish world, the small pop and crunch of their crushed forms seemed to amplify.

Brogan didn't like the idea of stepping on his friends to vanquish his foe but even so...

"Stop it." He commanded of the nightmare king.

Pitch's confident smile returned. His pointed features twisted with it; a mix of a sneer and a grin.

He took deliberate, strong steps. The crunches grew louder, and now seemed to be mixed with a sort of scream.
The forms of the ants, or a few of them, the ones under Pitch, changed to human forms, wailing in pain and terror of their last moments.
Twisted, nightmarish, but there.

""You call me weak... and yet you cannot even risk hurting the one creature that has nothing to live for. Its life is worthless.... its meaning is nonexistant. How pitiful, that you cannot be brave enough to face me, to step forward and fight.."

"Insects have more purpose in life than you do."

He pulled out his two wands and stats to shoot at Pitch.

That struck a rage inside of the Nightmare King.
His eyes lit ablaze. The ants on the ground grew agitated, beginning a renning swarm, a frenzy, crawling as if trying to flee from something unseel.

The spells hit upon occasion, though any major ones were blocked with black nightmare sand. Though they did knock Pitch back a step or two, in which he crushed more of the creatures.
His rage grew, boiling over as he darted left, out of the way of a bright red curse, his scythe forming in his hands.

"Hear them scream!"
He cried, his eyes wild with a hungry desire for any sign of weakness.
The screams and crunches of the ants grew to a forte of terror, pain, fear.
The creatures began to buzz with the sounds they were making. The nightmare king was deliberately stepping on as many as he could, making the wave of squeals and pain rise and fall like the tide.

"I told you... to leave them alone..."

He let out an almost inhumane series of shrieks and high pitched noises, rather like what an insect would do.

"You don't know about the Brockstein's speciality do you?"

(( ... oh ))


Pitch's eyes narrowed, though it was clear he was now hesitating, uneasy about this change of events.

"....you speak bug...? Pathetic..."

"Insecomouths... exactly..."

The ants start to move in the direction his was targeting. "You see, insects have very powerful senses. And I can control my throat to match their frequencies. It's a trait my adopted parents taught me."

(( ... /oh/ ))


Pitch's expression remained uneasy. Should he be war, or amused?
His body tensed, visibly, and he raised his scythe in the slightest.

"And what does that matter, boy? Nothing.."

"It will... because you've given me all I need to seal your doom... you know what kind of ants those are?"

Silence.
Pitch's scowl spoke it all; he hadn't a clue. And honestly, he didn't care.
But he was growing more and more worried by the second.

This was not a good situation... this was not good at all....

(( I might go mobile or I might not. Anyway, Im off compy. If you dont see my reply, ttyl. ))

OOC Okay preemptive bye!

IC

"Fireants... the worst kind."

Fire Ants?
Pitch knew of those.... many a child had a fear of them. And an occasional adult.

But his pride and ego won out over rational thinking, and Pitch took a cruel step forward, raising his scythe, his golden eyes shining with unfathomable power.

"And now you've made me mad..."

He gives another shriek, directing the ants to crawl over him.

Pitch hesitated, looking straight at Brogan before his eyes tracked down, to the ants.
Their tiny bodies were swarming up his cloak and legs, and he gave a snarl is distaste, stepping back and trying to brush them off without effort; a harder job than he thought.

"Damn this all.....-"

He watched him without any change in angry expression.

The higher the ants got, though, the more upset Pitch grew.
He felt a sharp sting that did numb a little, but burned harshly.
His hand? The fucker had bit his hand!


A growl of rage swept from the Nightmare King, and he allowed dark fearlings to wind from his robes and attack the small creatures, batting them away, blowing them off...

It really was a pathetic fight, but realization and the knowledge of fear from others fed Pitch's own panic.
These things could kill, could they not?

"Damn you! Damn you to every hell!"

"You know, you could drop this dream and escape your death."