Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Siege

Zalga's castle is a torch amidst the midnight snowfall. Burning lanterns and braziers illuminate the clearing around the defenses – a passive measure taken after her previous victory over us. Such a move is unheard of from Zalga, who's doctrine is dogged aggression. This only confirms the truth that we are winning, or that she's losing faith in her supposed victory.

From my perch in a high tree, I scrutinize the interior courtyards with my bow in hand. Dregs man the ramparts and towers, but they're hidden behind camouflage and concealment. We can get close, but not close enough for any decisive moves. I climb down from the tree, dropping down beside Rouge, who glances over at me with black blood on her mask – my mask, that is. A copy. The familiar shape of my garb is worn on her shoulders, too.

"Anything?" she whispers.

"Nothing," I whisper back, "Same as last night."

An ear-piercing shriek echoes between the trees from the high ground overlooking Zalga's castle to our right, but Rouge and I don't jump or shrink at the noise. It's become a usual disturbance, more an annoyance than anything, but to the Dregs, it's our battle cry and war drums – their nightmares made flesh.

Rouge holds her head with her hands, an irritated sigh coming out as a growl, "I hate that fucking noise. As much as I want to stay and fight, I hope Slenda rotates me out soon enough."

I put my arm around her, looking all around us before relaxing under her warmth, "Just stuff some ear plugs in like Ally. Bear with it for another night. If it's getting under your skin, that means it's working on the Dregs, too."

She huffs, knocking my arm away to pull me under her shoulder instead, "Maybe the Dregs can do us a favor and kill themselves already. Or run."

"Not so easy for them," I wince when the shriek of another death whistle resounds, and we start walking back to our camp, "Zalga's got her fingers in their brains, and she's not letting anyone else leave her sight. Not one Dreg, I bet."

Rouge pulls her mask off, her mature face pale and bloodless from undeath, "Yet Slenderman's still cooped up in his mansion like a coward... Slenda's been giving him our progress every day, and he's still acting like a bitch!"

"Jesus, Rouge," I laugh lightly, her shoulders starting to heave over mine as she clutches me tighter, "(N/Y) and Clockwork got off their turn at howling. I'm sure they'll tell him what's what. Maybe he'll come around... If he's anything like Slenda, and he is, he'll come around."

She rips off my mask, pressing her lips into mine before grinning, "God, I love you... You never lose that optimism I fell for," Rouge and I make it back to camp, two others talking quietly.

Helen sits with Slenda in a ditch ripped out of the earth by the roots of a fallen tree, and she presses her copy of my mask to her face, blowing out another howl into the night. Slenda doesn't flinch, instead watching, waiting, sensing the appearance of Zalga if she suddenly appears to snuff us out, herself. It's risky, but forcing a confrontation with Zalga is what we want. Her Dregs are an obstacle. Nothing more.

Helen limps over to me, an incapacitation that has plagued her since our escape from capture, "More exercise would do me good..." and gulps, "How does it look?"

Rouge sits down beside Slenda, and I kneel beside Helen, "A Dreg jumped from the castle walls and kill itself, but nothing else."

"Good," she nods, "It is working. It is slow acting, but it is working."

Rouge digs through our bag of food and hands me a chocolate bar, something I eagerly take, "With all the noise we're making, I feel like Zalga'd come out by now to shut us up."