Despite his lack of words, Holly was rather comforted by Pitch’s presence, by the kind of care he seemed to be trying to show her. She could understand how difficult it could be for him to put everything into words. She had the same problem sometimes. 

But the sentiment and the look in his eyes and the way he said her name said everything she needed really to hear. And she felt a little bit of pride swell in her chest that she had succeeded in making him feel better, perhaps even making him happy. That was what she wanted really. 

But there was something about Pitch’s words that unnerved her slightly. You were made to destroy me. 

It was… impossible. Or absurd or- or something like that. She would never hurt him. Not unless she could help it. Maybe that’s what her purpose had been before, but not any more. Holly’s light was tainted and tarnished by his hands, and she was glad for it. 

She found gladness in her loyalty to him like she had never had for Jack. Tentatively and slowly, Holly took Pitch’s hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

"What I am doesn’t matter any more," she said quietly. "It’s what I do. And everything I do now is for you."

"I couldn’t destroy you if I tried."

The words were as haunting as they were reassuring to Pitch Black who wanted nothing more than his companion’s loyalty. She displayed in her certainty an honesty Pitch had never known to deserve, and for a fraction of time he felt the swellings of an earhnest emotion. 

It had been the first time the Nightmare King could ever recall feeling like someone believed he deserved to live. In all of his existence wrapped within the darkness, he only knew the jarring contempt that came fom those who wanted him dead. For the things he had done. The choices he’d made. Those people who decided on their own that he had no right to feel what it was like to live were the very same people who claimed they believed in freedom. 

They believed in freedom until Pitch Black had used his freedom to make choises they didn’t agree with. To him, that was worse than if they had been outright honest to begin with. Lying was a cruel trick, and they were supposed to be the good guys. 

Holly wasn’t like them. Holly told the truth, and her truth was kind. She was above the rest. She was above Pitch Black too, but he didn’t want to tell her that. He feared she was learn just how monumental she was and leave him behind. She could, you know. She could go on without you and she would be better off.

“Maybe that’s the test,” charmed a quiet contemplation which keyed the strokes of an instrument in the gears of Pitch’s mind, “Maybe you were made to be my end, but your choice determines my fate. And you’ve given me a second chance."

How Animate can Inanimate Become?

{ ★ } 

   every part of pitch was an enigma to her. something so vast and    dark that it was difficult to wrap her head around it. his movements    coupled with words of comfort, and the knowledge of his nature    that she already possessed. 

   holly was just so confused.     just when she felt like she was getting a hold of the conversation,    he flipped it around. 

     “ you think i could do magic        on my own? “

   she knew she could fly a little, but holly had never pushed herself.    she’d never actually tried to do anything on her own. the idea was    foreign and… exciting. or maybe it was just him that was exciting.     him in all of his strangeness and confidence that was putting ideas    into her head. 

     “ jack is… well he’s everything.        but- but he’s proven just how        strong he is on his own… “

                   he doesn’t NEED me.                     but maybe that’s not all bad. 

     “ i don’t really have to protect        him, after all. he’s got the         guardians now. he’s got his         own believers.                    maybe i could…                             do you really think i could BE something? “

“Little firecracker, I KNOW you can be everything.”

       The Night’s dangerous touch had fingertips tracing the twig’s edges. He was playing at her insecurities, digging himself between her and her attachment to Jack Frost. He was lifting up her spirits, igniting her potential, changing the wind’s direction-- Removing from Jack the very constant he had always taken for granted. 

       “There’s a STORY about you, have you heard?”

If he could say enough to her, say the right things, perhaps miscommunication between herself and her wielder could push the two to tumble a part. He was already planning the entire debacle with Jack. Tell him that he’s holding Holly back. Convince him that he needs to let her go. Holding her prisoner? Forcing her to do his bidding? What kind of monster would try to control someone like that?

       Pitch could already imagine Jack’s response. Jack would say to Pitch ‘You would. Only you could be that kind of monster.’ And Jack would want to believe it. But words plant seeds, and thoughts fester growth. Pitch was sure he could twist the idea in Jack’s head, make Jack worry, force Jack to act irrationally-- Jack wouldn’t want to be like Pitch. He wouldn’t want to do anything Pitch would do. He would never want to force someone to do his bidding, right?!

              The seed which would sprout a flower. A dark rose to set it all in motion. Jack and Holly’s inevitable separation. 

“I used to hear the children tell tales of you once long ago. They were stories of a hero born of the bark of nature. Songs, even, about a girl who was meant to SAVE THE WORLD. Wouldn’t you say that might sound like you?”

Out over the edge of the parking lot and back onto regular road, he was careful not to go too quickly over it minding his tires all the way. Every time he glanced out of the corner of his eye he quickly had to remind himself that, yes, someone was in the passenger side seat of his car. Such a strange thing, he would not call Mr. Black a companion of any sort, a client, but it was irregular for him to have another inside his car. 

It was an on the spot situation. Either leave Mr. Black there or take him with and tend to his wounds with the promise of payment… Oh who was he kidding.

In all truth, he was waiting to see if Pitch Black would give in and reconsider telling him his sob story. Why he was so willing to pay a man to take lives. He wouldn’t deny, he’d attempted a little digging on Black’s identity, but he wanted to hear it from his mouth.

Frost was silent after the destiny commentary. He had no more to say, after all. He chuckled softly then allowed his eyes to focus completely on the dark road ahead.

“This is going to look strange.” He spoke up, pulling into the parking lot of the small, nearly uninhabited motel, “You’ll likely look like you’re some sort of some strange fetish. However, if anyone sees you, they’ll never see you again, yes?”

He shot Pitch a grin, though he knew the man couldn’t see it and climbed out of the car, reopening the door for him and offering out his arm to lead him to the third door down, “How are you feeling? Not dead yet?”

The rocks scattered about the damp surface of the parking lot dug into the soles of Pitch Black’s shoes, but it was the only sensation that could ground him to his location, the only piece of information he was able to take in about his new surroundings. It wasn’t grass. That was good. If this man was going to take Pitch far away from civilization to kill him and dump the body without struggle, surely there would be grass where he parked. 

He hadn’t expected help setting from the vehicle, but as Pitch reached out for the door he caught Frost’s arm instead and used that to hoist his ass from the seat and skit his feet away from the car to let the other close the door. The night’s air, as misty as it might have been, seemed to dissipate the sweat from Pitch’s neck as it touched his skin. He imagined the night sky must have been beautiful. He pretended he could know the stars were out and the moon was high, but there was a good chance they were somewhere in the center of the city where traffic lights weakened the weight of the lights from above. 

Not that he could know anything about wherever they were. 

“I feel like a corpse, but you still have me on my toes,” Sincerity and a metaphor. Pitch just couldn’t wait to get inside and perchance take the bindfold off. It didn’t make sense, but his lack of sight made it difficult to breath. Was it anxiety or just all in head? 

The tall frame teetered about as his body adjusted slower than it should have to the balance of his position, and he scuffled back on his heels twice, almost losing his grip of Frost’s arm. His fingers clutched the thick material of the other’s sweater just a little bit harder when obvious shock had Pitch scared he might fall over. He spoke immediately and the words came with a smirk, “Lead the way.”

———pale features turn more confused as jack processes what the stranger has told him— he shouldn’t know him, but he will, without a doubt, know OF HIM. it’s a little contradictory to him because he knows the being is physically here now, talking to him in a real voice with a real vice. though it seems that the eagerness to know of this man who can see him overpowers any fear in him regardless of the way in lingers in the most sickening way.

he secretly hopes that the shadow will answer more of his questions, there are so many more than he originally imagines there will be. jack doesn’t know where he should start or what questions should be listed as most important or beneficial to know the answers to. does this being of the night know the moon? could he possibly have the answers to jack’s very existence?

                    ❝are you something that i should be AFRAID of?❞

Malicious laughter rustled through the trees and around the snow being in a form of a dance with every intention of unsettling the curious wanderer. Words are not the first thing the Nightmare King offers the boy despite this question being perhaps the best thing he’s heard in centuries. Instead, silence befalls the laughter like rainwater drenching smoke. 

Pitch Black could almost recall a time he’d felt so lost. He could not place the time or the place, but familiarity with the emotion bugged at his edges. He let that uncertainty sink in for a moment as he tried to reach within himself for the memory, but he was never good with recollection. He began pacing about the white blanket tossed haphazzardly upon the ice cold ground, and his ghastly footsteps echoed the snapping of branches. 

                   ❝They will want you to fear me.❞

       “I don’t dance,” came Pitch Black’s far too quick refusal to Jack’s light hearted suggestion. Although the words cracked from a friendly smile that creased his cheeks, there was a hint of fear in his eyes from imagining himself on the floor with the music in his bones, so to speak. He hadn’t danced in ages. Not since the beginning of his time in the war. For a time it was comforting to release pent up anxiety in the movement of joyous rhythm, but too soon did his heart falter from keeping up with the beat of a song. He was no longer comfortable within himself enough to allow for such occaisions. 

Pitch felt like he should excuse himself in some way, but he wasn’t sure there was a good excuse for being a party pooper. He realized that not dancing always dampened the mood for people looking to have a good time, and he knew Jackson Frost was always about the good times. Words escaped the man who was known for always being articulate, however, and he pressed his lips together when he looked down to wrack his brain for anything to say even just to change the subject, “I BET, however, that I’ll be able to eat more sugary treats than you.”

Pitch’s Many Expressions - Part X

//Oldie but a goodie.  Koz and baby Seraphina/Emily Jane. 

Twisted Old Oak Tree 

By SAM MASON

Guardians of Childhood [RotG] Fan-Cast

▸ Lee Pace as Pitch Black

guardians of childhoof fancast:

guardians of childhood fancast: