Unfamiliar Faces, Worn out Places

 "Dray."

He slammed his mouth shut and keeled over, clutching at his ears, huffing between gritted teeth, a shudder in his chest grating into a damning whine. No. No. N-needed— No—

A solid grip clamped down on his shoulders, and he flinched, Stov's voice muffled. "I need you to listen to me. Focus on me, not them."

"Can't— c-can't— I—" he choked out. It filled every part of him, echoing, lifting, and it was a thousand times worse than that damn click yesterday, flickering out with every blink, every breath jagged. "No—"

"Dray, come on. Stay with me. We need to move, we can't stay here."

Needed— needed to— It rose, demanding, and he clenched his hands harder around his skull, choking on a shuddering breath as he fought to get to his feet, staggering after the grip tugging him. Had to. Wanted to. Didn't.

No. A high, shuddering sound clawed out of his throat, hitching, and he shook his head violently, clamping his tongue between his teeth. I won't.

Something hard and jagged thudded into his shoulder, harsh breathing rasping back at him from smothering rubber, lights flickering in his right eye, blind in his left.

Something on his face, couldn’t see. He ripped at it, a snap cutting against his skin, panting raggedly as his knees gave out. His head lurched, lights and voices echoing, and over all of them that sound rising again.

"It's alright, pup, just give in."

A grating whimper hiccuped out of his throat, and he forced his head down.

"Dray, can you hear me? It's alright...."

Jumbled voices, murmurs; eyes watching from the shadows swallowing their faces.

He could smell the fear drifting down the crumbling corridor, the scent of warm bodies with quick-beating hearts. Swallowing convulsively, he ran his tongue across his teeth, shivering at the ache in his gums. Wrong....

How long was it down here....

Creeping in the darkness, melding with the shadows. That scent... so soft, so sweet, just a bit further and they'd be close enough. Prowling low, rippling across the familiar ground smooth and silently, warm fear thick on a parched tongue.

"What... what was that?"

Just come, please....

"I can hear breathing. It's here— it's ahead of us."

A soft click plucked at them—a low rumbling churr to a little pup, enticing. Come to me? It's alright....

"Oh no."

Glinting eyes turned and breath quickened, hearts churning blood hard enough to tinge the scent of cold sweat with sharp iron. Their little lights lifted, shining into the shadows, almost touching glinting teeth and glowing eyes.

"Dray?"

He blinked, squinting at the blinding light and hunching low against the wall. Couldn't— tuck in properly. His limbs didn't move right. Eyes stared at him, too many, watching.

"Dray. Dray. Hey, Dray. Do you recognise me?"

"S-Stov?" Dray.... Dray abruptly trembled violently, clenching at his shoulder. Something.... What had he— where... where had he gone—? Monstrous shapes stood above him, and he shrank away. Something— a flashback? But it wasn’t right. Who...?

The light lifted, shifting shadows, and... it was... Stov? Stov, stares gleaming behind him. Neri and Erold? "Sh-shihk."

Stov puffed something that almost could've been a laugh, and reached out, tilting his head in the other direction. "Come on, let's go. We're getting closer."

He let the hand take his shoulder, something... wrong. Muffled. What had he—? "What— what was that...?"

A howl rose, shivering through his ears, and he ducked his head, a ragged whimper grating at the shifting shadows. “Ngh. Can... can still hear them.”

The hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. "It's okay. Don't worry about them."

"Want me." He dug blunt nails into his scalp, not sharp enough to do anything. "In my head. I... I don't want to."

Stov kept him stumbling along, swatting away creeping roots reaching out to catch at his face. "Good. Whatever you do, don't answer them."

"Would he do that?"

Shaking his head to clear the static, he tried to smile at a face with long dark hair. "No. I'm... I'm okay."

Dark... hair?

Something about that seemed wrong, the features just slightly... off. It was nothing. Just his imagination. Just the shadows.

A shudder hitched at his shoulders as the howl rose and fell, twining through dark pits watching from the walls. There was a pressure in the back of his throat, burning at his lungs. It wanted out, in his head, tugging, digging into his skull.

Answer, the shapes crawling across the walls whispered. He flinched. "No. Get out... of my head."

They shivered, drawing back from him, eyes watching, shining, and he tried to smile, mumbling a weak apology. Would be a little wary of a guy talking to himself, too. Shaking his head, he let out a shaky breath, digging a hand into his face.

Don't feel right....

Strange sounds echoed, an eerie light glinting off slick, wet patches on stone. Like a pulsing, rotting throat pocked with holes, bones catching at his feet. Ugh, not a great mental image.

Panting rasped in his ears, reminding him of yellow lights stalking them through the darkness. Trying to escape a click-churring monster that appeared wherever they turned.

Some kind of endless nightmare....

He tugged at his burning throat, trying to breathe past the numbness in his face. And pale fingers.... Did... did they look too long? Strange marks at the joints, bending strangely, and patches, veins....

Veins.

"Stov...."

A face turned to look at him, hair clinging to its forehead, too light, eyes hidden, and he swallowed. Was that... Stov? Couldn't be anyone else. Had to be him or he was going crazy. "Do my hands look weird to you?"

Eyes stared at him for too long, large bony hand still holding onto his shoulder, dragging him— "Let me see."

Stov's voice, echoing in the dark—it was him. Had to be. Dray swallowed, holding up trembling, pale fingers, and nearly stumbled on a jagged shadow.

"No, they look fine." The head shook, turning away and hiding the wrongness. "They look strange to you?"

"Just—" he could hear quiet breaths behind him, feel watching eyes "—don't look right."

"They're normal. You're fine. Don't worry about it."

Don't worry about it. He croaked a laugh, a shudder running down his spine. What if I turn into a monster when I'm not looking? Felt like he wouldn't notice, wouldn't even realise it like that weird... whatever it’d been, just slip into another skin and be gone....

There was a shadow stalking on their heels, muzzle low and glowing eyes unblinking, ragged tines drifting black mist. Could almost hear its low throaty clatter, a soft rumbling trill with all the wrong tones edging it. Come to me....

He shivered, swallowing with a dry click, and the hand on his shoulder twitched. The fingers seemed too big, gnarled and bony, gripping too tight, watching him.

"...Try not to make any noises."

But he hadn't. Had he? "Am I... am I getting worse?"

"Do you feel worse?"

He shook his head. Something about that question felt... wrong. Sanitised. Dark eyes watching him too closely, almost black instead of brown, looming over him. "I don't know. It's... it's been getting worse. I don't know how long I...."

The uncomfortably tight grip dug in, face turning away. "Not long now. You'll be fine."

...What?

He stared at the back of that head, at too-broad shoulders wearing a tough black shirt, like the kind under a force uniform. Hadn't he had a backpack? Throwing a subtle glance back, he could see more shadows shifting, hear more footsteps than he thought there'd been before, multiple arms and legs flickering along the walls. More than there should be.

He kept walking as the endless tunnel widened, trying to keep his breathing even. That hand tightened when he subtly tried to pull away. "That... that is you, right?"

"What?" The face turned, pinprick glints in the hollows of its face, and he flinched.

"Stov. You're Stov, and it's just Neri and Erold. Just... just you." At least five sets of breathing echoed all around, empty hollows and gaping mouths shifting in the walls, prowling across the cracks. More... more of them.

"We're the only ones here, Dray," Stov's voice said, mouth opening and closing in the smooth skull-like face, almost... out of sync. Was it his voice?

"I'm here," a lighter voice said, Erold's on its heels, snarking exactly like a replay of an outing day, "Present."

The bony fingers dug even tighter into his shoulder, and he shivered. They sounded real, but... but emptier. Tinny. Is it just in my head?

He'd been here a long time, walking down, down, down. There was something wrong. Something wrong with the shadows tugging him deep, deep into the echoing darkness, whispering with the voices of his friends and his brother.

"What?"

"What?" echoed back at him.

"Did you say something? You were talking." He shook his head, rubbing at his ears, a distant, distorted wail lifting the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Where are you?"

"Nobody said anything. Except you."

"No, you were talking...." Had to focus, dammit. Whispers and stranger's eyes watching him dug into his skull, breath on the back of his neck. His hand snaked back to cover it. "Whispering."

"It's just the echoes making you hear things."

It's nothing, it's nothing. Why was he always saying that? Fingers dug around his shoulder again, and he clenched his hands, fighting to keep his lip from curling and his teeth from aching. Nothing's wrong, Dray.

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones, pulsing in his soul as it dug deeper, pulling him further. And he shambled behind willingly like a dog on a leash, his skin crawling as the claws dug into his shoulder, clenching tighter, tighter, quiet figures watching his back. There was no escape.

"Dray?"

A faint voice drifted down the tunnel past twisted roots holding up crumbling walls and hiding shifting shadows. Familiar. And definitely not here, in this dark, dripping cave he couldn't recognise.

I'm being stupid. He kept his head down, listening to the echoes, skin crawling under a tight grip. Why would the force try to trick him instead of just tackling him straight into the ground? It's stupid. There was nowhere they could've slipped in, anyway, unless....

Earlier, he'd blanked for a minute... that weird dream.... A shudder ran through him.

What if... what if....

His hand clamped around a bony, cold wrist. It wasn't Stov's.