Chapter Text
Sleeping with his back against the rough bark of one of the hundreds of dead, blackened tree's that were dotted as far as the eye could see in this alternate universe- Pitch was in a dreamless state. It was difficult to want to dream at all with so many disgusting, vivid images of death and mutilation- things that had become an everyday occurrence and even pastime for him. As of late, fewer and fewer people were arriving the AU; seemingly being warned of the gruesome fate laying inside if your unfortunate to arrive in the waking hours of the group of skeletons inhabiting it. Pitch found it was easiest to get rest when he found a spot higher off the ground and more protected that was free from prying eyes, the instability of those around him made being watched in your sleep much more common than it should be.... Stirring, he stretched out his arms and cracked his back- having his blindfold snug against his face he moved a hand to check its position, adjusting and passing the time with fussing over his clothes- hoping the day would slip away if he just spent enough time fussing over this one thing.
It didn't take long for his waking to be noticed, thankfully by someone he could tolerate, Firecracker was one of the two other skeletons inhabiting the AU- and was the only other one who seemed to have a sense of up and down enough to be considered friendly. Pitch had unfortunately been forced to affiliate with those around him's appearance, meaning he had to take off his blindfold and actually communicate to them. Firecracker wore a jumper just like all the other skeletons except it was completely shredded below the sternum making it useless for warmth, gloved hands, boots, the stereotypical single stripe black and white shorts and a gas mask pulled over their face. Pitch knew well from the few times seeing the others face- which felt like looking at his own without a blindfold- that his entire jaw was smashed away, making him completely incapable of speaking. The skeleton's two floating candles crackled like the lungs of a smoker, choking him with sound by force- but he also gave off a natural warmth that made the interactions more tolerable. Firecracker moved closer, clearly below him since he could feel the heat of the flames he produced snaking underneath the branch- if he was trying to light pitch on fire he was going the right way about it. Pitch could hear the grinding coming from his bones as he moved, the creak of the branch, all over the crackling of fire just below him.
Swinging his legs to dangle over the branch, hands forcefully clutching the place where he was sitting- the heat got worse and Pitch let out a yelp as it actually started to reach him. Pain shot over his lower legs, numb and hardly noticeable- which was concerning. Since usually he couldn't feel pain at all, especially not in his legs, probably the most battered part of his body after his neck and face. Pitch could feel his fingers twitching to take off his blindfold, having to catch the temptation and stomp it out where it was- instead he listened carefully, usually Firecracker wasn't this loud. He could hear grinding, other than his own bones- the grinding of something else. The air underneath his legs changed and soon he was being dragged from where he was to meet the ground- the back of his head whacking against the dirt with an audible yet cushioned ( due to the layers of clothing he had on making the sound, although not the impact, less audible) thud. He could feel something on his legs, being shook violently as he was trying to recover from the reeling dizziness accompanying the fall. That same pain he'd experienced before was now much more apparent to him- threading itself into his legs he kicked out and there was a low hiss. Pitch didn't have his hammer so he was forced to sneak away his blindfold with a hand- struggling against being dragged as he could feel the static grass slicing over his back and side as he writhed.
His eyes didn't register anything at first, blurry and overwhelming to the eyes he let out a grumble rubbing a hand instinctively over his face before the Colours and shapes became more apparent. The thing grappling onto his leg appeared to be firecracker, but the way the legs bent awkwardly at the joint, almost like an animals hindleg- the sharp points of his face were slicing against his leg, as if an attempt to bite him was being made. He wasn't being dragged but instead he was being clawed at- shaken and tossed wildly. Pitch took the information in slowly, trying to process who exactly was Infront of him before he finally looked himself over instead of firecracker to see where the pain was coming from. To say he gagged would be an overexaggerating- he'd done much more to himself with a sharp piece of glass and a mirror than could be achieved by blunt points on a skull. Nonetheless looking at the lining of dents and dark blood pooling and mixing with the filthy surface of the bone, running over his legs and pooling into the space below was interesting, more than alarming but still interesting. Pitch would have almost watched the rest if it weren't happening to him, or causing him pain, or that he was basically being mauled. Firecracker stared at him for a second, his pupils were pure white- alarming since usually the opposite was true- with a single fluctuating black pupil. Pitch leaned forward reaching out a hand and catching the collar of firecracker's torn jumper- pulling him closer before throwing his leg up to hit him in the ribs, throwing him back wellst pulling his legs up with struggle at the sting throwing his weight out full force in a kick to force him away from Pitch. scrambling to his feet, Pitch struggled examining the wounds as he noted that they weren't deep enough to scar and could be fixed with a bit of rest he made an easy two point teleport, moving from where he was to the branch- grabbing his hammer- then teleporting back.
Pitch didn't act immediately, not too keen on smashing the face in of the only one who seemed sane enough to not bug him-- although that perception of him was rapidly changing as it seemed that he was secretly a werewolf or something. Pitch shook out his leg, bugged by the ache of pain that wracked over him- not improved by forcefully keeping himself standing. He shifted into a stance so his hammer would stop Firecracker if he leapt at him, watching him carefully. Firecracker was struggling with getting himself standing, revealing his sharp pointed fingers his legs were sweeping at the ground as if he expected to be stood- except every time he tried he lost his balance. Pitch remained where he was, tensing anytime it seemed he got close to standing again. It wasn't long before he found his footing and managed to stand- the moment this was achieved he stumbled straight toward pitch and it took one step to the side and a kick to the back of the leg for him to fall on his face again, scraping at the ground and struggling with his own legs. It seemed impossible to watch, trying to piece together how this could have possibly happened, or perhaps he'd simply took one too many syringes and gone crazy....-er than he was before. Pitch stopped knocking firecracker over, instead when he ran at him- gradually getting better at what appeared to be getting used to the weird bends in what should be perfectly straight legs- Pitch made sure to keep him stood but at a distance, analyzing and puzzle solving mentally. Firecracker was sweeping his claws(?) at Pitch, scraping his legs against the dirt and making a mess of the ground. Pitch was about to give up and attempt to distance himself- try to treat his own wounds etcetera since it wasn't like firecracker could leave (just as Pitch couldn't) when Firecracker suddenly slacked his movements, leaning close- catching him off guard. He did what Pitch assumed was ..sniff him, before simply... walking away.
Firecracker moved slowly, step by step and clearly completely used to the way he had to walk- eyes tracking his every move as his arms were limp at his sides and the flames in his candles blazed and crackled- continuing until he was out of sight.
He physically fell over going limp for a moment as the ache in his legs forced him to submit to the action, Pitch stayed still on the ground trying to grapple with whether or not that was real. Every second of every waking moment he was being choked by delirium and reality conflicting in a battle over which gets to mess with him today, the syringe that had trapped both him and firecracker- previously others, but they weren't too keen on staying alive apparently- in relying on it like an addiction. Unfortunately this wasn't some pleasant mental experience first- it jumped straight to the part where it destroys your life. Pitch stirred dragging a finger over his wounds- they were still bleeding, pouring out a thick warm liquid that was still staining the ground below. Pitch hunched over to get a better look, inspecting the substance on his fingers- frowning. It took a few swipes at one of the wound to find that no matter how much he tried to get rid of the liquid it kept pouring, surely he didn't have that much blood? It slowly occurred that this wasn't blood, but something that could have caused whatever Firecracker had just done. Shuddering he took his blindfold off fully temporarily and wrapped it over the area instead- standing up again and shaking himself off. Perhaps insanity knew something about this..
As Pitch navigated the area more and more he found that the tree's slowly got more charred and broken- stained by smoke and fire. The puzzle was clicking in place in his mind, connecting the sudden violence in Firecracker to whatever happened here- and gradually his teleporting around to try seek out the only other skeleton not currently sick with murder (for now). Finally finding him, he was in the depth of the char and smoke, clothes tainted by burns and tears, barely visible since he was lingering close to a tree. Pitch glanced over the area around, smile faltering for a second as his gaze raked over the deep slices into the tree's around him and the shattered glass littering the ground- making it sparkle with the sheet of miniature reflections just underneath his feet. It didn’t take long to locate Insanity, the ‘ringleader’ he supposed.
Pitch had always found him headache-inducing, actively going out of his way to keep everyone in his proximity hooked on whatever was in those syringes- aided by his syringe-tipped tail that seemed to be his main way of administering it. He of course would be simultaneously teasing and prodding at others with every opportunity especially to those who’ve never been stabbed by the syringe before, Pitch still had his first impression of the skeleton and the sheer strength just one syringe had, although the hallucinogenic effects became duller overtime. He’d also been forced to acquaint himself with Insanity’s appearance as well- a top hat with teeth marks and tears at the top, a suit with a lengthy tailcoat and tall cone shaped collar-paired with the same jumper and shorts everyone else wore and finally the peculiar footwear- stacked heels, to make himself a little bit taller pitch assumed, as if his irritating presence wasn’t enough already. Insanity seemed to be partially covered in a charcoal like colour that ran over his clothes in erratic patterns, no doubt another marker firecracker had talked or interacted in some way already. Atleast he wouldn’t need to explain too much. Besides his clothes, insanity didn’t seem too different- although facing away made this difficult to judge with one glance.
Pitch reached out a hand, tapping Insanity on the shoulder. Neither moved for a moment as Pitch felt slightly discomforted the more he eyed his surroundings, the silence in a place so devoid of any life made it incredibly easy to lose focus in a conversation- the still grass and charred tree’s on all sides were burned into his memories. The texture of everything and the sounds his companions make when they move, speak or walk were also welded into his day to day. Regardless of these, the sound that split the silence- a creaking and static laced noise like feedback from a microphone meeting metal on metal. His hands were immediately clasping at the side of his head- although there was no actual way to block out the sound, having his attention refocused on Insanity he jolted backward at the sight. His usual expression seemed twitchy, his mouth was coated in blood and held ajar in what seemed to be an involuntary smile, not as if Pitch saw genuine smiles much nowadays, growing in place of the smooth teeth that he and most others had were two new rows of razor-blade sharp teeth. Pitch’s eyes traced the rest of the usually recognisable appearance- his height had increased, his pupils seemed wildly inverted and had some sort of pulsing pattern happening and his legs and fingers were just the same as Firecrackers. Pitch immediately swept his hammer toward the space infront of him hoping that would ward Insanity off, he could feel himself choke on his own indecision stuck like always with a blank expression and no outside reaction.
What pitch assumed were meant to be words dragged out and repeated themselves over and over, changing to be similar or dragging on- the sound of the speech was just as grating as before sending a dull ache over Pitch’s head as he tried to focus on something other than the bombardment of noise. Usually Pitch could head Insanity crystal clear, but whatever was happening had reverted his text back to being unintelligible noise. Once the nosie had finally stopped Pitch almost felt like there was a gap in the air, head ringing as he finally fumbled over what he was meant to be doing. Pitch couldn’t escape exactly but he could get a good distance away once he figured out what exactly was happening. He did a double take over Insanity’s appearance- noticing something on the side of his face, a purple- fleshy texture was ebbing over the usually pale white bone, something Pitch hadn’t really seen before but he could definitely dub as dangerous from observing what it was doing. Insanity didn’t stumble like Firecracker had, instead it seemed like he was unaware of the legs as a whole- easily moving forward although visibly leaning and swaying slightly it seemed his tail helped to keep balance better.
Pitch strengthened his grip on his hammer as Insanity closed the distance between them, a slick purple liquid seeping out of his mouth (drool, he supposed) as he flexed his fingers. Pitch kept an eye on the tail, not keen on the idea of becoming a purple drooling zombie anytime soon, there was no doubt it was full of whatever was causing this. Pitch wasn’t entirely sure how to defend against Insanity to add onto his troubles, from what he’d observed although a fan of forcing addiction on others through his syringes his actual raw abilities made the vivid mental drowning that the syringes could cause look idiotic in comparison. Pitch was entirely certain one activation of it on him would break him in seconds, flinching back at the idea and not enjoying being suffocated by the closing distance and creeping boundary breaking- he teleported away giving up on any answers from Insanity.