Brit and Chrys
A folded paper smacked Brit in the face. It was a professional doctor's notice by Arthur, stamped across with big red letters, 'LOST CAUSE'.
"You can get out yourself, or I can call in the cultists to drag you out," Willow snapped, dropping back to his chair. "Why would I want to waste any more of my time on some sad little girl with nothing to offer the world?"
A black tendril suddenly materialized and shot up from the ground, wrapping itself around Brit's wrist and tugging roughly at her. The pony artist didn't seem to notice or care.
"Probably the worst part is how you got into your delusional little head that you somehow understood me," he continued to berate, readjusting his table set-up. "Or that I cared to understand you."
Another tendril appeared and assisted the other in trying to drag Brit down, as the whole floor began to writhe and morph into more and more slither black forms.
He chuckled with little amusement, opening a book and concealing his face behind it. "I mean, how sad is it when the one from the fucking children's cartoon about friendship-obsessed horses doesn't even want to be your friend, huh? My species exists to teach goddamn six year olds about how to stick through friendship till the end, and yet here you are, the one thing even I couldn't be bothered with."
The nightmare became more surreal, more twisted, more horrifying, the walls and corners of the library twisting and morphing into disorienting angles and shapes, the tendrils pulling her down into the slimy floor, and the air becoming heavy with the mish-mashed, muted sound of groaning, growling, and mocking laughter. Willow lowered the book from his face to reveal new eyes; no longer their watery blue, they had taken on a heinous glow, his iris color replaced with dark red, his whites with green, and a twisting violet smoke seeming to curl out from the sides of them.
"But I guess there are some things you just can't fix," he said, slamming the book shut and flying over to her. He regarded her with callousness despite her nightmarish situation, lifting her gaze upward with a tug on the area between her cheek and chin. "What unfathomable choices you make too. Tell me, what were you hoping to get out of me? Empathy? Pity? Admiration? Some relief for your own damn guilt over your condescension of my people?" He leaned and hissed a whisper by her ear. "Love?" A twisted smile cracked along his face. "You're pathetic." And he pushed her aside, allowing the darkness to fully entrap and consume her...
A bottle full of cold water splashed over pony-Brit's head.
Arrow tossed the bottle aside and kept shaking the girl, desperately trying to bring her sobriety. "Snap out of it, snap out it!"
Slowly, the color of possession, the same color the imaginary Willow had had, faded from Brit's eyes and the nightmare ended. Inspecting her, Arrow held the other unicorn close like a sick child and began to look around them in aggressive suspicion, and yes, fear.
"It's even worse than I thought," she growled. "It uses fear. Personal fear. It's grown more powerful and toxic than even I could have predicted. This changes everything..."
