Max should have seen the nightmares coming. What with the day they'd had and how tired he was. He was in some in between state...too exhausted to stay awake, but likewise too exhausted to fight off the dreams. Or were they even really dreams? Hadn't Kithiel said something about switching realms? He wasn't sure. He was too tired. But he felt Lucas' fingers wrap around his, so he just...held on.
The world developed slowly, first the cobblestone under his feet, then the lawns, then the houses. Max simply stood as he watched it happen, as everything came into focus...at least, as much focus as it ever came in to. The shadows stayed, as ever giving the place that feeling that it wasn't ever...solid. It wasn't ever real. They were different here than the shadows Kithiel always seemed to be surrounded in. Thinner but...like if he fell into them he'd never be able to get back out.
Max heaved a sigh and sat down slowly, uncomfortably on the rocks below him. In the house at the end of the lane there were couches but...he doubted he could get that close without getting himself into trouble. So he was going to sit his ass down and wait it out. Just like had last time.
Except it didn't really seem to be an option this time around. The whispers started softly, so silent he could have brushed it off as an overly paranoid imagination, but then they picked up...coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Maxwell. He shook his head slowly, drew his knees up to his chest. He was fine. Maxwell...come play with me.
"No," he whispered. He'd never really thought about how creepy kids were. It wasn't like he'd ever actually been around them before, but now...with that voice in his ears...he could have a nightmare about that alone.
For awhile, it was quiet. Max felt like he had won...maybe. But then there was a red ball, stark in color against everything else, rolling his way. It stopped mere feet in front of him, close enough he could reach it if he just leaned forward far enough. He drew his eyes up slowly, and for some reason...he wasn't surprised to see the little boy standing there. His head was bowed, dark black whispy hair covering his eyes, wearing some kind of thick black cape where only his hands and feet were showing, talons hanging off the clock and dragging on the ground. His feet were tiny, toenails black and too long, hands balled into small fists. Play with me.
"No," Max answered. The voice was louder now, still childlike, but he could hear something underneath it. Something deeper, darker. Like two different people were talking at the same time.
You know you want to. You like it, Maxwell. You like the feeling of being strong. You like the power. It feels like pleasure, doesn't it?
Max did like it, that was the problem. That had always been the problem. He just happened to like his brother more. "Nope. Not at all. Don't know what you're talking about."
The kid looked up then, and for the first time Max saw his face...or, well, lack there of. There was no mouth. No nose. Just eyes. Large, purple, eyes that seemed to...see right through him. The anxiety slammed against his chest, heavy and hard, and he was sure if he hadn't already been sitting down it would have knocked him off his feet. In seconds all the feelings that usually came with his nightmares were at full speed. Wrong. Bad. Run. Get out. Now.
He swallowed slowly as the kid just continued to stare at him, like he was seeing too much. Seeing parts of him that Max didn't want to show. "Go away," he said slowly. "Leave me alone."
You need a tether, Maxwell, you'll go insane without one.
"Pretty sure I'll go just as crazy if it's you," Max shot back. The answer, however, was clearly not appreciated. The cloak the boy was wearing shifted and then unfurled. It wasn't a cloak at all...they were wings. Six foot long, pristine, leathery black wings. Then the thing lunched at him. Hands gripped over his shoulders, sharp talons digging into his skin. He was sure there were words, but he couldn't hear them over his screaming.
And then he was waking up, drenched in sweat, his hand gripping Lucas' so tight he could feel bones. But he hadn't even shifted in his sleep...he was in the same spot as he had been. He was okay.