There was a certain charm in a static existence, to remain in one spot without movement, or even the necessity of movement to survive. Waiting, waiting, brooding, brooding, long, too long now.
It took far too much effort to move, and while the cold cement was by no means comfortable, it would serve as a suitable final resting place. Maybe he (if it even had a gender anymore) could leave behind a mark on this world that couldn't be erased this time.
( i had waited far too long for this )
Voices, voices, meaningless words don't listen can't listen won't believe don't can't won't and all i really wanted was
It has found its new "branch." It would stay here and fade into the walls, beneath the suffocating white paper, and then maybe it could live a little die a little and everything would be black.
No more white.
It hated that color, anyway. Stretch, stretch-stretchstretch, seep through again. Again. Won't be contained can't stop me now.
After the second or third coating, was it white or brown or maybe even black (it was probably white, but it was far too tired to care anymore) -- the quasi-demon felt resigned to simply fading away into the brick, maybe fading away wasn't all that bad and maybe the pain would stop, pain stop stop stop.
It loses track of time shortly after. What had once been a vague perception was now dulled into -- maybe this was what they called oblivion. Now it just hears voices, voices voices speaking meaningless words there is no point and would they just stop talking yet?
"It's cursed, it's definitely cursed!! They definitely put a demon here just to get me, I'm sure of it!! It's not safe here, it's not safe anywhere o-oh God I'm sorry....""
Its attention is garnered at the sound of d-e-m-o-n. Demon. Wasn't it once a demon, too? It forgets. It cares not. The voice is gone anyways.
And yet it comes again. It is a woman's voice, a hoarse whisper. The stain (for it is no longer a demon, nor an imp, not even a shade) can deduce that much.
"C-c-can't any of you see it? It's peeling, it's peeling right there and it shouldn't do that wallpapers don't do that don't you see?!"
"No, hush, there's nothing there, it's just an apartment don't worry about it."
Other voices calm down the hysterical one and it wishes she would just shut up and leave it be. The voices always come in packs and it's annoying, annoying, too loud.
The voice seems to be alone this next time.
"You...are a demon, aren't you? Wh-who sent you? Was it--"
hissssssss, for that is the only sound that can be made.
The voice cringed to a halt, then slowly began to pick up momentum once more.
"S-so you're n-not with ... th-them?" The voice hesitated.
hhhhissssssss.
"Th-then....maybe you can ... help me?"
It could have been a trick of the light, but the stain showed through once more, seeping out into the open. And the woman must have noticed as well, for there was a soft yet shrill shriek, and the sound of clattering footsteps.
It would have hissed again to show its discontent, but it already grew tired of this human and her high-strung manner. It had already taken far too much energy to manifest past the constricting white wallpaper.
"C-can you.... help m-me?"
The demonic-stain paused its spreading for a moment, then slowly, painfully, it formed itself into jagged, sloppy cursive writing.
________________h _ e ____l p
"Y-yes, help!!" A pause. "....w-wait, y-you're not g-going to take m-my .... soul, are you?" Another pause, the voice is hesitating and "If I ... keep you alive," she gulps, struggling to ignore the nagging voice that what she is doing is bad, will only make things worse "....w-will you ... take away the source of my f-f-f..." She pauses once more, unable to speak.
The demon grows tired of this charade, swirling and congealing into a dark mass as if threatening to leave the boundaries of the wall. In response, she shrinks back, hands flying to her face to stifle another shriek.
________ sssspe _ a k n __ o _ w
She stares for a moment, then takes a deep breath, already beginning to feel that dreaded emotion drain from her mind ( or maybe she is just imagining things like they say she does )
"....Remove the source of my fear," she says, biting back the hesitation, "...and I'll maintain your life. F-fair trade?" She finishes, the hesitant fear creeping back into her shaky voice.
There is another hiss, although it seems to be a hiss of approval this time. The woman watches with wide-eyed fear as the stain seems to remove itself from the wall, taking shape as a demonic shade.
(they would never approve of this)
The shade hovers in midair, staring at the woman expectantly.
"....(I don't think she'd like the name Paris)"
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