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⚠️CONTENT WARNINGS⚠️
Gore Trauma Mental health issues Mind control Body horror
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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞
Mary Jane's tune faded into silence in the dream, his brows knotted together when he couldn't hear her voice. Instead of her lap underneath him, his hands patted a cool black marble surface. He frowned at his reflection and staggered to his feet. Balancing on the polished surface was difficult; Peter spread his arms to keep himself from slipping. The darkness around him stretched for miles with no entrances or exits in sight.
Peter flinched. He hadn't noticed the bowed figure kneeling a few feet from him.
"Excuse me," he called. "Sir, are you alright?"
There was a pause, he knew that slicked-back brown hair and those broad shoulders well.
"O'Hara? Sir?"
Miguel didn't respond, he just kneeled there frozen to the spot. Peter took slow careful steps towards him, wrapping his arms around himself to keep out the sudden drop in temperature.
"Are you alright?"
Peter stopped, a gasp sliding out from his lips. He hadn't noticed the two lax legs propped up on Miguel's knees or the ponytail draped over his arm. His ears picked out the faint strains of a conversation between Miguel and a young girl in a language he was sure was neither Spanish nor English. The girl peered at him over the nook of Miguel's elbow. She had the same intense gaze as he did.
Gabriella O'Hara, Peter gave a name to the face he remembered from those clippings Peter B had shown him.
A memory made of stardust and fractured dreams, a spectral darling.
Gabriella slid her arms around her father's neck and whispered something in his ear in the cryptic tongue. Miguel spared him a glance over his shoulder.
Peter's hands flew up, his raised palms facing towards them to tell them that he meant no harm.
"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm your father's friend."
He noted Gabriella's face growing pale, her grip around her father's neck going tight. Miguel didn't look back, he just patted her back and rocked back and forth in an attempt to calm her down. Peter felt his spider senses flaring up, setting his spine on fire.
He felt a presence behind him. A soft wind scraped at the base of his neck, ruffling his hair. Sweat trickled down his sideburns. He froze.
Two feminine voices spoke together as one, the higher pitched of which rambled on in that strange tongue that both Gabriella and Miguel had spoken in. It was difficult to comprehend, the series of jarring screeches that felt more like a needle scratching against a broken record than a tongue. The deeper voice however whispered to him.