Black of the Night (Tag: Pitch)

Once again the shadows that filled the kiosk surged, but this time it seemed more a movement of unease then one of anger or annoyance. Pitch remained silent and motionless for a moment but his eyes had grown watchful. The last time Adeline's name had come up between the two of them, Shadow had used it in a less then subtle threat towards the Demon. Now, he waited and watched to see if this were more of the same.

However, after several seconds of silence and no bitter or hateful words to follow it, he let the tension ease from his shoulders but only just. The question was still a very difficult one, a topic in which Pitch spoke on little when he spoke of it at all.

"No. It was long before that."

He paused here again, uncertain if he should continue or not. When he finally did, his words were almost hesitant.

"It's ironic, really. You have to want it, you see. To be free to make your own choice, to break away from Disparion, you have to want it. That's the easy part, the desire and the want. And yet you can't just take it. No...."

More silence followed this and in that silence you could almost hear the heartbeat of Bellerouge.

"Someone has to show you that there is another way. They have to give it to you. I suppose I would still be serving Disparion faithfully if it wasn't for that one person, if it wasn't for... for Taran."

Pitch had turned away from Shadow as he spoke but glanced over his shoulder when Shadow asked what age Taran had been. Normally this was a topic so sensitive and forbidden to him that he would have simply refused to even acknowledge the question. He hadn't even spoken the boy's name in years. And really, was it any surprise when he had died in Pitch's arms, his last breath used to bind the unbreakable promise to the Demon?

At these thoughts, Pitch raised a deathly pale hand and pressed it over the very scar that bound Taran's promise to him. For so long he had believed this promise to be a prison itself, a trap from which he would never escape. And yet this promise, this selfless promise to do good coming from the lips of a young man bleeding to death had been the very thing that had finally set him free. With his dying breath, Taran had managed to do the impossible and freed Pitch from the chains that bound him to Disparion.

"When I first met him, he was only a child. Twelve, perhaps thirteen. When I last saw him, when he died.....he was a young man. Twenty-five."

Under his hand, his Promise Scar seemed to throb with a dull, deep pain.....or had that been his heart?

"Don't even bother."

The response, while still containing a fair amount of anger towards Shadow, was more annoyed then anything else. He simply hated it when people said that they were sorry.

"I still don't understand why people say they are sorry. You say those words, but why? You were not there, weren't involved in any way and hold no responsibility over what happened. Those words are nothing but hollow and meaningless."

"Then prove it, Shadow."

Despite the lingering feelings of anger and betrayal that had come to nest in Pitch, he recognized that Shadow truly was repentant for his actions. The guilt practically breathed off of him and Pitch couldn't recall ever having seen the homunculus wearing sorrow on his face instead of his characteristic scowl. However, all his sadness and guilt would mean absolutely nothing if he didn't do something about his past wrongdoings.

In this way, Pitch and Shadow were even more alike. Pitch had gone into hiding after Taran's death, confused in a way he had never been before, questioning everything he had thought he had known. The very foundations of his existence had been shaken and now he was bound to do good, but how as it possible for a Demon, a being known for its evil, to do just that? For a time all Pitch had been able to do was wallow in his own uncertainty and confusion, doing no evil but at the same time bringing about no good.

In fact, it hadn't been until Shadow had sought him out all those years ago that he had finally taken a step in the right direction. He had removed those memories from Shadow in an attempt to do good. It had been a small thing really, not much of an act of goodness, but it had been the first move in a series of steps that had finally led to him joining the BPD.

"Prove what you say and show the BPD, show the people of Bellerouge, show everyone that you are not a force for Disparion."

Pitch wasn't the type of person to sympathize with anyone, but he couldn't deny that he knew where Shadow was coming from. He too had originally been a force for Disparion, far more so then almost anyone knew, and he had plenty of blood on his hands. Perhaps the whole reason that he and Shadow clashed so much was because they were too much alike.

"Then let those mistakes be a lesson and learn from them."

The Demon's tone had grown calmer, the anger slowly dissipating inside of him. Honestly, sometimes he was taken aback by the way he was letting emotions take hold of him. Not so long ago only the most intense, powerful of emotions could bring about any kind of feeling in him and even then it was a muted thing. What had happened to him to bring about such a dramatic change?

He couldn't say for certain, but he thought that his brief time as a Sapien-made human had something to do with it.....that and meeting Adeline.

For a time, neither of them said anything and really, there was nothing to be said in those brief moments. Pitch kept his silent thoughts on the evolution of his own emotions to himself and Shadow had his moment of weakness before slowly regaining his composure. When the homunculus finally did response, it was simply by passing the folder resting on the table towards the Demon with a single warning.

"You think Thrax poses a danger to me?"

The question was spoken with soft amusement, as if he found Shadow's warning slightly amusing. He reached forward and pulled the file towards him while flipping the cover up, letting the pages inside flutter as the air circulated around them before settling down.