Immortals and Empires

Chapter 10: Nodus Tollens

What goes around comes around. 

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A/N: Basically Ink angst.

(kind of a cliffhanger? idk read at your own risk)

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The crunch of dead leaves. Ink watched Error quietly.

"What's wrong with you? Did something happen?"

"Nothing." Error's voice was low.

"No, something happened. What's the problem?"

"Nothing." His voice was almost strained. Error refused to continue. Ink grabbed hold of his tricolored phalanges. "Error?"

He jerked his hand away. A slow, soft breath left Error.

Just a few nights ago, they'd kissed.

Tonight, they couldn't even talk...?

Cold claws gripped Ink's chest.

"Error?" His tone had gone stiff. Perhaps slightly sharper, edging its way across a knife.

Error was silent.

"Error." Slightly harsher.

He had duelled with Error before. But this...this was different. He had seen many attacks and defences from Error before, but he'd never seen... silence.

"Error?"

The sapphire strings...didn't even twitch. Ink drew back.

"What's wrong with you?" He demanded, then faltered. "Did— did something happen?"

Error was silent. Didn't even hum to fill the silence.

"...Error?"

Quiet. Fragile. Soft.

Ink's hands trembled. "What's the matter?" He murmured. Pleadingly, almost.

Error's gaze landed on his.

"Ink," He said softly. A glitching hand rose to caress his chin. Slow, steady breathing.

Ink's hands stopped shaking. A slow exhale as the two locked eyes.

His white eyelights darted away. A slow sigh from the taller.

His strings didn't even twitch, not a single warning before they leapt and bound his hands behind him.

"What are you doing—?" Ink tumbled to his knees. The strings grew taut.

"Oh, Ink." He bent down, watching as Ink struggled.

"You—" He gasped. His hands fell to his sides. Already his white bone was shifting to the black hue of liquid ink, but— oh? He seemed to be having some difficulty. "What did you do—?!"

"You have quite a cloudy mind right now, don't you?" Error's mouth was still shut, clinched in a tight frown. Behind the Protector was the "Prophet" (the one fighting his way into Ink's mind). "You're formidable. I'll admit it." He sighed, bent down to watch the struggling Protector. "In combat? So powerful indeed. But...as for your mind..." And he lurched forward. Ink was still grappling with his binds, but he spat at him anyway. "You—"

A strangled breath.

Tendrils, ripping through his ribs, cracking and breaking some (if not most).

As white eyelights fell downwards, he forced a bottle down his throat.