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The cool glittered midnight hues spread through the wild forest terrain. It was quiet, and despite the late hours, it was far from dark; as the luminescent foliage scattered upon the ground lit up the surrounding areas. Varying mossy trees loomed above in great heights, symbolizing their old age. While creatures flitted to and fro, minding their business.
Within the forest lies a small clearing. The lack of trees gave way to the moonlight above and in the middle stood a certain guardian of negativity.
Nightmare hadn’t been there for long, simply wandering through the bioluminescent forest to admire its surroundings. Every so often, he’d allow himself time to wind down and relax; such as right now. Moments like these were far and few in between, however. As it was something he often disregarded for other priorities. Priorities such as his gang, Dream and his gaggle of friends, spreading negativity… the list goes on.
Personal time, though… wasn’t something up very far up on the list. He has enough common sense to understand neglecting it could have (heh) negative effects on himself. He needed to at least put some effort into self-care, however abysmal it may be.
So, here he was now, wandering around in the forest of a random neutral au.
Just. Thinking… Alone. …
Nightmare lets out a sigh and looks up to the moon above.
Once upon a time, he would spend hours up at night with Dream, watching the stars, sharing food, spinning stories at the drop of a dime to the other. Back when things were okay. Back before the villagers weren’t even something to worry about. Back when he only had Dream. Those days were gone.
In the wake of the great expanse of the luminous forest, Nightmare’s mind seemed to wander onto himself. How his life is now.
He thinks of a far long time ago, a time where he hadn’t found the others; hadn’t made his little hodgepodge of a gang. Just himself and the corruption that consumed his entire being. Before even Dream had escaped his stone prison. Days where he’d just hurt, hurt, and hurt, and revel in the pain. Suffering was all he knew and all he inflicted upon others. Since those days, he’s managed to gain a semblance of sanity. Although only through many, many years of hard work. And many many mistakes along the way.
When Nightmare stops to think about it, he really has changed much from the days when it was just him against everything else. He has people to rely on... and begrudgingly care for. Killer, Cross, Dust, Horror… Nightmare doesn’t know where he’d be right now if he’d never met them. Most likely still conforming to his corruption… Still scourging across the multiverse in an attempt to monopolize its negativity.
Occasionally, he’d still have more... sadistic... outbursts, much like one with LV would have LV flare-ups-- because fuck, feeling the fear and desperation rolling out like waves as someone pleads for their life is so... SO, intoxicating. So easy to get lost in...
He manages to keep them on the down-low as well as one can in his situation, as having an outburst in front of his gang wouldn't be desirable. If he can, he’d rather not harm them.
It wasn't much, but he’d done it once before. Back when he had less of a grip on himself; when it was just Killer and himself. Back when he saw him as nothing more than a tool; something to get rid of after its use was gone. He has since been forgiven, but Nightmare will never forget.
…
He should stop. This isn't a train of thought appropriate for a time meant to wind down.
Once he’s done here... he’d probably have to go back home. Not home. Too intimate to his base for dinner. Knowing the boys. No. his subordinates, he can only hope that they haven’t irrevocably fucked anything up by the time he gets back. Nightmare amusedly huffs and dreads at the thought. Well, it’s not like he’d be the one to clean the mess anyway. So, there’s the positive.
He pauses his thoughts to give a look over his surroundings. Glancing at the mossy trees that towered above him. For a second, despite the stark visual differences, its length reminds him of another tree that was the same. Old and long with age. He hates it. That damn tree never brought anything good.
Thinking back on everything, his life, Nightmare.... Isn't a good person. He knows this. Guess those villagers were right about one thing… huh? He’s done absolutely despicable things; especially so during his early years under his corruption. Even now, he spreads negativity to many. Back then he did it for solely for fun, now it’s just a necessity. Well... a necessity he still can enjoy. But regardless... He isn’t a good person. Not like Dream.
Thinking back on everything… Nightmare realizes he doesn't actually give a damn. He doesn’t care whether he's perceived as good or not. What matters to him is not how other people feel about him, but himself and his family gang. He’s… not a good person. And he’s content with that.
He’ll burn the whole multiverse down for his gang if need be.
---
“Yo, Mr. Boss man!” Killer stopped whatever he was doing and waved from his seat at the table. He held some chipped block of wood and some sort of tool for carving. “Back from your ~mysterious~ trip? Good, I’m fuckin hungry.”
Nightmare had just teleported to the dining room for, well, dinner. He was slightly stunned upon realizing everyone was at the table with empty plates but quickly recovered. “My apologies, I had lost track of time...” He paused and looked at them all. “I was unaware you all had been waiting for my presence to eat.”
Cross rolled his eyes from the left of Killer and sighed at his tablemate’s bluntness. “It’s fine.”
Killer let out a dramatic gasp, “Fine? Fine?! You may be, but I’ve been here toiling away; desperate for nourishment. I’ve been dying.” He flails his arms dramatically for emphasis.
“Oh shut up, it’s like, 30 minutes past when we usually eat.”
“Maybe for you, but it’s been a bazillion years for me!”
“Aw, does Killer need some fwood? Need your papa to fweed you?” Dust chimed snarkily on the other side of the table.
“Yes,” Killer says in deadpan.
Dust snorts.
Nightmare sighs amusedly at the riffraff with a smile tugging at his mouth; but otherwise keeps silent while he surveys the room. After a moment, he notices the lack of one’s presence.
“Where is Horror?”
Cross chimes in with an answer. “He’s in the kitchen I think? Grabbing some water or something.” He gestures to the door on the left.
As soon as Cross finished saying so, Horror re-entered the dining room. His single eyelight widened ever so slightly before settling on an easy grin. “Oh… welcome back… Nightmare.”
Nightmare smiled back, “Good evening, Horror.”
“We were waiting..for you to come back….before we began dinner,” He gestures slightly to the table. “Guess we can start... now.”
“Fuck yeah we can!” Killer cheers.
“Woo…!” Dust sarcastically follows, lazily raising his fist up.
Nightmare laughs softly, “Yes, thank you. I appreciate you all waiting for me. Let’s begin.”
---
Nightmare… knows he isn’t a good person. But he’ll be damned to think that he couldn’t ever find good things.
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