Pitch spent another restless night, deprived of both dreams and nihtmares, physically resting but finding no peace in his sleep. He finnaly woke, how much later he didnt know. He had somehow kicked the sheets of in the middle of the night. His limbs still ached horribly, and any movement brought on a dull soreness through his muscles. He rose, his joints and back stiff, but he would not allow himself to be confined to bed. Especially when he had unfinished buisness with Black. For a time, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at a crack in the dark gray floor. He was still unsure of how exactly he felt on Blacks miraculos revival. He hated that his rival and disobedient creation was alive and well, but he could not shake the little anoying feeling of relief tugging his gut. He pushed it away. He was Pitch Black. He was not capable of such feelings, and thats the way he wanted it. At least, thats what he told himself.
After a few more minuets of frustrating himself, he rose suddenly, and marched a painful gait strait down the hallway. He was just about to enter what was once his throne room, when a small sound caused him to halt. A faint, murmmer, a calm almost soothing whisper came from just ahead, seemingly out of the empty darkness. It was night, which either ment he had not been asleep for long, or that he actually slept through the entire day. But that wasnt important. He didnt even care. He slowly peeked around the dark stone, hiding as much in darkness as he could. Who could she be talking to, she is alone here, or, are the Guardians with her? He thought. For a horrifing moment, he thought that he had walked into some trap, that the reason Black let him stay in the first place was so the Guardians would come and...well he didnt really know, but he knew it wouldnt be good.
He cursed his own, embarrasing fears, adding more and more hatred for the imortals. He crept more and more around the stone, finnaly peeking into the room. Black sat exactly where he left her, knees curled almost to her chest, back aganst the trunk of the gigantic stone tree on a thick, dark branch. She was whispereing something to her crows, her fearlings as Pitch reconized them. They flew around her in a small flock, and he noticed that most of the crows he had seen when he first arrived were gone. He could not understand what she was telling them, but one by one, they left through the roofless room. The sky above was compleatly darkened by clouds. No park of the sky was visible, only swirling masses of dark gray and streaks of black. The crows seemed to vanish within the ominus clouds. He waited until only three were left, perched on low brances around Black. The rat that snareled at him before was curled up on one of her knees, allowing her to stroke its smokey fur with two fingers. Pitch realized that the little rat must have been the very same monsterous creature that had battled his rats beside the Guardians, and frightened the lot of them into a corner. What was its name...Goliath? He thought.
He shook his head. The rat wasnt important right now. Black was. In a black whisp of shadows, he snaked his way over the cold stone floor, slithering up the trunk of the tree until he reached a branch close to where Black rested. He materialized from out of the darkness, smieling as Black jumped slightly. She tried to hide it, but it was hard to keep fear from the Nightmare King. "I see you're up." She said flatly. At least she had shed the cold tone she spoke with him earlier. He answered with a simple 'hmm'. They sat in an akward, tense silence, niether really sure what to say to the other. Pitch broke the silence, finding the words to ask Black want he wanted to know, without setting her off. He didnt want her angry, just yet, but he demanded answers. "I see you're alive." She annoyingly answered with a 'hmm', mimicing him. He sneered at her, but she seemed to pay more attention to her rat than to him. She wanted to show she was more than what she had been, that she wasnt afraid and as far as she was concerend she was above Pitch, so much infact he was barely worth her time or attention.
This irritated Pitch, but he kept calm. If he wanted answeres, he couldnt anger her, which just added to his agrivation. He was practically at her mercy if he wanted any question explained. He managed to ask in a flat tone, neither angry nor polite. "How exactly are you here? I saw you dissapear into the crystal myself." She remained silent, trying to decide whether or not she should tell him. She definitly did not need him getting any funny ideas. She was the Grim Reaper now, the bringer of death and carrier of souls. After a few minuets, Pitch began growing more and more frustrated. He was about to snap at Black, but she answered " The Man on the Moon brought me back, from what little of me was left inside the crystal once the power faded." She stated as a matter-of-factly. She decided saying that would answer him, without revealing who she was now.
