middaeg | [closed] wish there was something real

[His searching fingers find the hilt of his knife and, with a half-strangled cry, he drags it forward into the night. The bright arc of the blade coruscates in the dark and he whirls, quite abruptly, on the heel of his high leather boot. It's a wild, flailing defence and it's one that meets no resistance, the blade passing through one of the ethereal shapes as though it has no more substance than air. It does nothing to halt its advance.

His heart beats hard and his eye flares wide, desperation building in him as he takes another blind swipe through the dark. A blind swipe that achieves precisely nothing, and there's a bitten-off sound of ugly terror as the incorporeal forms drape themselves against him.]

I...I...I...

[Is all he manages to stutter out as he abruptly folds at the knees and sinks down to the loamy ground, arms flung over his head. Because perhaps if he can't see them, pretends they're not there, they'll eventually give up and go away.]

[An ineffectual fight, and one that doesn't last long, Julian's panicked swings of a knife cutting nothing more than the wispy mirage of fog and ghostly figures that seem to surround him. Itachi watches all of this. When at last he sees Julian buckle to the ground in defeat, tall posture reduced to that of a cowering child's — a parallel to easy to draw the memory of his brother — he dispels the magic. The illusion melts to nothing; those ghosts were never really there.

The air feels electric, a calm aftermath in the endless night's dark. Itachi's feet are quiet on the cold earth as he approaches.]

Julian. [His voice, too, is quiet. Almost as intangible as those phantom figures until he comes nearer, but even then there's a vagueness to his dark outline, a dreamy quality ] We're alone now.

[A short distance away, Itachi kneels, bare feet on the frosted ground. His crow familiar wheels down out of the black sky as if summoned and lands close to Julian.]

As I said, you're vulnerable here. This is not something you should seek.

[The air around him has that sparking, ozone quality that comes in the aftermath of a storm, but it's something he barely attends to in his curled position on the ground. His heart is still a heard hammer in his chest, panic like pain, contricting his lungs, and it takes him a moment to register the soft sound of Itachi's voice in the dark. He mistakes it, briefly, for the murmuring of the ghosts, the ghosts that somehow know his name, that press in on all sides and bear down on him and--

--and. Recognition insinuates itself against his consciousness at last, the familiarity in the soft-spoken words, and with wary underwater movements, he uncurls his arms from around his head. One eye - wide and bright with his fear - peers out until it settles on the familiar lines of Itachi's face.]

Itachi, thank the gods.

[The words shape themselves around an outbreath, and quickly his gaze darts about, hunting out the ghostly figures and finding - thankfully - nothing.]

Did you see them? Did you chase them off?

[The other man's words have yet to entirely sink in.]

[So he doesn't realize.

It would be easy enough to walk away from this conversation now. Perhaps he could steer Julian in the direction of the city, and out of the woods, where he would be safer and preserved from all the dangers on the night of new moons. He can play along with Julian's perception, even if it isn't the most honest.]

They weren't real. It was illusion magic meant to frighten you.

[He remains kneeling close by, while the crow investigates Julian's feet, nosing with its sharp beak around his ankles.]

Will you go back now?

[He drags in a deep and fractured breath - a touch ragged around the edges - as the cool empty night settles down around him. As the realisation that they're quite alone out here, just the three of them, sinks down into his bones and grounds him back inside of himself. Slowly, he reaches out a hand to the crow pecking around at his feet, the gleam of black feathers reminding him - sudden and sharp, but not unpleasant - of Malak. He means to touch the bird, scritch its feathers, isn't sure whether it will allow it.]

Illusion magic?

[He says it, gaze turned towards the other man's face, slightly narrowed.]

Some trick of this place, or...?

[Or Itachi himself. Did Itachi do this to him? Just for the moment, the other man's question goes unanswered, and Julian makes no immediate effort to pick himself up from the ground.]

[The crow goes still as soon as a hand extends out to touch it, beady black eyes fastening onto Julian as though to gauge his intent with a remarkable intelligence. Or else deciding whether to peck at his fingers in search for a snack. It decides, in the end, to hop over and wiggle into those scritches, bizarrely affectionate for what appears a wild animal—particularly one belonging to such a severe, quiet man.

Itachi watches this, then drops his eyes to the cold forest floor. He can see a circle of blackened blades of grass and roots where he's been standing, ambient evocation magic at work.]

No. It was my own doing.

[So why do you still remain?]

I have no issue inflicting violence on you, whether it be physical or mental. [A lie or not, even Itachi cannot tell it of himself. He doesn't want to hurt Julian, but in the past he's used violence as an extreme motivator—bringing people to the brink of terror and death and dragging them back. Standing over Julian now, that person isn't gone even after death; he is still dangerous. Not someone from whom to seek pleasure.] I want you to leave this place and return to the city.

[There's a familiar comfort in it - subtle, but bright - as the bird accepts the movement of Julian's fingers. He's silent a moment, motionless but for the gentle curl of fingertips through feathers, eye sharp and slightly narrowed where it rests on Itachi's face.

Intentional then, those stretched-out minutes of gut-clenching terror, a horror that had reached him in a way no physical violence ever could. intentional-- but he'd invited it, hadn't he? Had all but asked the other man to subject him to whatever pent-up violence was brewing inside of him.

His silence breaks as he huffs out a laugh.]

My darling, if you wanted to force me into taking some action, threats of violence are quite the wrong way to go about it. Promises maybe, but not threats. [He flashes a small, wry smile.] A simple command might, however, have sufficed.

[It's then Itachi turns, pulling both eyes and attention away from Julian and the bird. A simple command, as though that is some measure of control being handed to him without cause or reason. He isn't certain where the tight feeling of conflict originates in his chest, only that it's difficult to dismiss, to rationalize away. Who has ever wished to be commanded? Perhaps the very same as an individual who would find thrill in threats and risk.

Julian cannot know how dangerous such a proclamation is; neither does Itachi feel prepared to address the rest of those implications. He's too tense, too agitated with excess magic in his blood—the black moonless limbo of the sky is testament to that.]

Then go. Now.

[This comes in a sharp, steely voice. One he has used in the past to command squadrons; his own teammates; the terrorist partner who obeyed his direction simply through will. He doesn't look at Julian.]

[The command sings sharply in his blood, bites down through flesh and muscle into bone, and something in him rises to it. He finds himself pulled up hard, lip catching between the bright gleam of his teeth, and though he considers finding it in him to refuse - he has a right, doesn't he, to be out here, to take his own life in his hands as he sees fit? - he finally lets out a sigh.]

Sorry, little fellow. [These words are spoken to the bird, fingers giving one last ruffle of feathers before sliding reluctantly away. Palms pressing flat to the earth now instead, he pushes himself to the feet.] Your friend here says I have to go.

[He straightens his clothes as he rises, before reaching for his discarded blade, gleaming dully on the ground.]

And I'll bid you goodnight, I suppose. You've rather put a damper on my plans for the remaining dark hours, but far be it from me to disobey an order.

[He says it to Itachi's back, eye lingering over him for just a moment, as though half-expecting the command to be rescinded--

--but then he's taking his leave. With a whirl of his coat, he heads off into the night, back in the rough direction of town.]

[closed] wish there was something real

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