Username:
Miss Pancake
Name:
Tupu
("blank" in Swahili)
Gender:
Male
Element:
Light/Dark Element
Where are the knives?:
"Oh, but wouldn't you like to know?" the grumbling voice hissed from somewhere deep in the shadows, only the black and white eyes of a mysterious creature standing out against the brush of the forest. The voice, it was deep and throaty, as if it was a strain to talk, yet hissed out as if the wind itself was cradling it to your ears. You could feel the presence of another being, hear the slight rustle of the leaves as the figure moved to the slight wind weaving through the trees. It was toying with you, and it was doing a fine job of it too. "Why, pretty basic question. I get asked that a lot for some reason," there was that voice again, coming from all angles, yet echoing from what seemed like the ground up, "Maybe it's because I have the three knives that are said to kill any enemy, no matter how strong, yes?" You nod your head, not really feeling the confidence you once had. But as you stand frozen in fear you watch as the bushes part, revealing a pale Goblin Gator, his green tongue flicking in and out so fast you doubt you ever saw it in the first place. "I thought so." His lips never moved, at least not from what you could see. His lips were curled into a creepy smile, his soulless eyes seeming to wrench you from reality to bring you into the darkest abyss possible. Staring into his eyes was like looking at your own death, and while you wanted to look away, you were also mesmerized. "Tupu, you have obviously heard of me," you didn't bother to nod your head, he already knew, you could feel it. "The legends, the riddles, the myths, have all led you to me. That means you know all about them..." Was the forest getting darker as he spoke? Was he getting closer? Or...were you gravitating towards him? Those endlessly empty eyes were locked with yours, his voice no longer being tied to him, but rather it was a disembodied sound that swirled in your cranium like he'd just blown a puff of smoke at you. "How I've given two to the Gods, yet one still remains. How it's laced in gold, silver, and the heartstrings of sirens. How all you have to do is just..ask for them?" What is this? You have a mission! Stop this, it's agonizing! Your thoughts aren't your own anymore, you don't like this feeling, his voice in your head, make it stop! And his eyes, the eyes that make you wish you were dead, yet somehow make you believe you already are, make him look away! You sure can't, you can't move, you don't want to yet it's the only thing you wish desperately for. "Well, if it's that easy, I don't understand why more people don't try to ask me where it is. Maybe they're...afraid of the answer?" No, no, no! Are those tears running down your cheeks? Is that the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability? You are defintitely familiar of the fears, the anxiety, the torture you feel blossoming from the pit of your stomach. Your darkest fears, your worst thoughts, his worst thoughts. You'd be sure you'd collapse if this devil of a being would let you move, why won't he let you move!? Is this his fault? Why is your head encased in this darkness? The darkness resonating from him, seeping out through his eyes and into yours, bleeding from his still lips, coating his green tongue that would still flicker out. "Oh well, I'll tell you where it lies...if you still want to know?" NO! You don't want to know! You just want to leave! To move! To breathe! You want to climb your way out of these thoughts, his thoughts, his cruel voice, but you can't! It's too thick, so overwhelming, suffocating! You panic but you doubt it'd be noticeable as you have still yet to move. You wonder if anything about your appearance has changed. Do you still look as if you're confident, but on the inside, up in the attic, you're slowly going insane? "I honestly don't know why anyone cares about these knives that can kill your strongest enemy," he was moving towards you, closing in. And as you took what you believe with everything you have to be your final breath, feeling this demon's breath on your face, he uttered a single sentence that made your blood run so cold it was painful. "After all, any knife can kill if you just stab it in the right place." You scream, as loud as you can, yelling for the demon to be gone as you strain your muscles to swing. Your arm slammed into the air, dispersing the demon's body as if it were a shadow being drowned out by the sun. The darkness that encased you swept along with it and you find yourself standing right where you were before. In the forest. The sun was rising, and the demon was no where to be seen, though you can swear you hear him breathing over your shoulder. You dare not look, and instead raise your hand to look upon what it know grasps. A knife. The knife. It was beautiful, it glistened in the pink sun and looked intimidating in your petite hands. "Like I said," the voice flowed in and out of your ears, but not caging in your thoughts like it had before, "all you had to do...was ask."