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Description
It was hard to watch, but this was what humans did.
They fell apart, and had to either choose to put themselves back together again, or stay down.
Pitch had seen both results thousands of times in his existence, but when Vadim fell apart, the old spirit found himself...caring.
It annoyed him, but he tried not to think about it too hard.

"I hate this!" the child screeched.

Kneeling in the grass a good distance from a small town, Vadim was distraught and in tears.
Pitch stood as a tall figure over him, calmly studying his company.

"Everywhere I go, no one wants me!
All they say is that I am bad luck, that I cannot be near them...!"

"You're not bad luck," the entity cooed softly, but matter-of-fact.
"Their dense minds are afflicted by superstition.
You know this."

"I doesn't matter..."

The boy sniffled and tried to wipe his eyes with the end of his tattered sleeve, but more tears only took their place.
Inevitably, he thought over and over again of his loneliness, his sorrow, and another wave of misery drew yet more sobs from him.
It had been a seemingly long, sad life for eight-year-old Vadim, and Pitch knew this.
It was nothing new to him, but now that he cared, he felt the need to try and ease his mind.
As entertaining as his small fears were from time to time, the more he was with him, the less he enjoyed Vadim's fear.
And then his sadness, and his hunger, and his loneliness.
If he was smart, Pitch thought, he would've left Vadim days ago.
But now he was growing attached, and he couldn't bring himself yet to pull away.
Not like this.
With one hand behind his back and the other at his chest, fingers rubbing together absentmindedly, he continued.

"Oh, but it does."

"But what if they're right?
I don't have good luck.
That I know for sure..."

The boogeyman looked up and towards the horizon, as if somehow hoping a caring person capable of raising this child would show themselves, but he found not.
Not that he expected differently, but Pitch Black was not known for being "comforting."
But with the sight that befell him, he found himself unable to hold back his advice any longer.
He too, knelt in the grass, not very far from Vadim, relaxing.

"I didn't choose to be like this...!
And...a-and I cannot fix it...
Why does the world push me away...?"

When Vadim's broken heart glared through his wet orbs and at the old spirit, Pitch felt an ache in his chest he couldn't have explained even if he'd wanted to.
He remained aloof and unreadable as usual, but there was an unmistakable softness in his tone that brought an ounce of comfort.
Golden, eagle-like eyes sat fixated on Vadim's face, never leaving it.

"You have been born into a world where forgiveness comes far and few between.
People see something that they do not understand, and it makes them afraid.
So they make up stories, assume that the bad things they experience must be related to that which they see is different.
And so..."

He sat upright, motioning to Vadim.

"They cast it out."

Vadim took a moment to mull this over, eyes dark and thoughtful, tears still falling.
And again he looked to Pitch, his eyes and his tone pleading as if to ask Pitch to somehow fulfill his wish.

"I don't want to be like this...!"

"Why ever not?"

It was more than obvious Pitch knew the answer, and this only frustrated Vadim more.

"Because I'm ugly!
I'm scary, and people hate me because I look different...!"

"You are unique," he drew out softly.

At these words, Vadim sat up a little, trying to catch his breath.

"Do you think nature makes mistakes?"

"I don't know," he huffed, wiping his sore cheeks.

"Well, it doesn't.
Its creations may come out appearing to be misshapen, dysfunctional, or even "wicked."
But the truth is, there are no accidents in nature.
You are the way you were meant to be, and this is the way of life."

"It's hard..."

The more Pitch spoke, the more understanding he sounded.
But it was working, as Vadim gradually grew more and more calm.

"Yes, it is very hard.
That's something else you need to accept, now that you realize it."

"I just want to give up..."

"Now, boy," he said sternly, "I have not endured your company this long to watch you give up.
You're better than that.
Being different does not excuse you from the fight.
If anything, it means you must fight harder, and be proud of it."

More than anything, Vadim wanted to protest, but he merely looked away to think again.
He may not have understood much about Pitch, but one thing he did trust was that he knew what he was talking about.
It was like he knew everything, so could he possibly be right about little Vadim, the boy with the "cursed face?"
And then, he looked back up at Pitch.
He looked at his dark body, his long, grey face, sharp, golden eyes and dusty hair.
Taking in a shaky breath, he blinked away more, yet slower tears while the wind tossed strands of hair in his pinkened, chapped face.

"...You're different."

"Yes."

Vadim tread carefully.

"Do the creatures in your world push you away, too...?"

Pitch nodded once, slowly.

"They do."

"Do you...ever feel bad for being what you are?"

"No."

Such a concept felt far beyond Vadim's grasp of understanding.
He shook his head, uncomprehending.

"How?
If others push you away and are mean to you, then how can you be happy being different?"

At this, Pitch leaned in much closer, his voice deep and low, and ringing with a truthful purpose.

"I embrace it.
I know what I am, who I am, and what I need.
You may need more than I, but you must accept that this is the life you have been dealt, and carry on."

Again, Vadim shook his head.

"I can't do it by myself..."

"You may not have to."

"Huh...?"

"The great thing about this world is that, while it may be ruthless, there is always a place for everyone and everything to fit in.
Many find their place right away, but others, like you, will spend a lifetime searching for it.
And by that time, you'll find it was worth the grief."

Vadim suddenly found himself feeling a little less sad; just a little, but Pitch sensed his ease.

"So...
I won't be alone forever...?"

"No one is alone forever."

"Not even you?"

A hard clump of emotions sat in the bottom of Pitch's belly at that question.
If he was to be convincing, he needed to take his own advice.
He swallowed subtly, eyes sinking the slightest bit, and nodded, forcing himself to believe he could someday have companionship.
Even though at his core, he did not have high hopes.

"Not even me...
So."

Vadim watched as Pitch rose to his feet, looming over him once again.

"You can sit here and continue to pity yourself, or you can get up, and keep fighting."

Vadim sank a little in place, genuinely weighing his options.
His body was heavy and weak, and cold.
All he could fathom doing was laying down and closing his eyes for a minute, but he didn't want to be a casualty.
This ancient, dark spirit that only he could see believed in him, and that meant something.
So he rolled onto his knees, and planted his tiny hands in the old, dead grass, and slowly pulled himself to his tired feet.
With one last shaky breath, he wiped his eyes, puffy nose sniffling.
Pitch began to walk, and Vadim followed at his hip.
The spirit's hand lingered open behind the boy's head, guiding him without ever making contact.

"Very good.
Now then, I will show you where to find some fish in a shallow."

"I...don't know how to fish..."

"I will teach you."

Vadim leaned his head on the elder male's leg, and together they walked on into the woodland.

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The boy belongs to rufftoon and the name Vadim was given to me by ks-claw !

---DO NOT STEAL MY STUFF!!!---

Description
It was hard to watch, but this was what humans did.
They fell apart, and had to either choose to put themselves back together again, or stay down.
Pitch had seen both results thousands of times in his existence, but when Vadim fell apart, the old spirit found himself...caring.
It annoyed him, but he tried not to think about it too hard.

"I hate this!" the child screeched.

Kneeling in the grass a good distance from a small town, Vadim was distraught and in tears.
Pitch stood as a tall figure over him, calmly studying his company.

"Everywhere I go, no one wants me!
All they say is that I am bad luck, that I cannot be near them...!"

"You're not bad luck," the entity cooed softly, but matter-of-fact.
"Their dense minds are afflicted by superstition.
You know this."

"I doesn't matter..."

The boy sniffled and tried to wipe his eyes with the end of his tattered sleeve, but more tears only took their place.
Inevitably, he thought over and over again of his loneliness, his sorrow, and another wave of misery drew yet more sobs from him.
It had been a seemingly long, sad life for eight-year-old Vadim, and Pitch knew this.
It was nothing new to him, but now that he cared, he felt the need to try and ease his mind.
As entertaining as his small fears were from time to time, the more he was with him, the less he enjoyed Vadim's fear.
And then his sadness, and his hunger, and his loneliness.
If he was smart, Pitch thought, he would've left Vadim days ago.
But now he was growing attached, and he couldn't bring himself yet to pull away.
Not like this.
With one hand behind his back and the other at his chest, fingers rubbing together absentmindedly, he continued.

"Oh, but it does."

"But what if they're right?
I don't have good luck.
That I know for sure..."

The boogeyman looked up and towards the horizon, as if somehow hoping a caring person capable of raising this child would show themselves, but he found not.
Not that he expected differently, but Pitch Black was not known for being "comforting."
But with the sight that befell him, he found himself unable to hold back his advice any longer.
He too, knelt in the grass, not very far from Vadim, relaxing.

"I didn't choose to be like this...!
And...a-and I cannot fix it...
Why does the world push me away...?"

When Vadim's broken heart glared through his wet orbs and at the old spirit, Pitch felt an ache in his chest he couldn't have explained even if he'd wanted to.
He remained aloof and unreadable as usual, but there was an unmistakable softness in his tone that brought an ounce of comfort.
Golden, eagle-like eyes sat fixated on Vadim's face, never leaving it.

"You have been born into a world where forgiveness comes far and few between.
People see something that they do not understand, and it makes them afraid.
So they make up stories, assume that the bad things they experience must be related to that which they see is different.
And so..."

He sat upright, motioning to Vadim.

"They cast it out."

Vadim took a moment to mull this over, eyes dark and thoughtful, tears still falling.
And again he looked to Pitch, his eyes and his tone pleading as if to ask Pitch to somehow fulfill his wish.

"I don't want to be like this...!"

"Why ever not?"

It was more than obvious Pitch knew the answer, and this only frustrated Vadim more.

"Because I'm ugly!
I'm scary, and people hate me because I look different...!"

"You are unique," he drew out softly.

At these words, Vadim sat up a little, trying to catch his breath.

"Do you think nature makes mistakes?"

"I don't know," he huffed, wiping his sore cheeks.

"Well, it doesn't.
Its creations may come out appearing to be misshapen, dysfunctional, or even "wicked."
But the truth is, there are no accidents in nature.
You are the way you were meant to be, and this is the way of life."

"It's hard..."

The more Pitch spoke, the more understanding he sounded.
But it was working, as Vadim gradually grew more and more calm.

"Yes, it is very hard.
That's something else you need to accept, now that you realize it."

"I just want to give up..."

"Now, boy," he said sternly, "I have not endured your company this long to watch you give up.
You're better than that.
Being different does not excuse you from the fight.
If anything, it means you must fight harder, and be proud of it."

More than anything, Vadim wanted to protest, but he merely looked away to think again.
He may not have understood much about Pitch, but one thing he did trust was that he knew what he was talking about.
It was like he knew everything, so could he possibly be right about little Vadim, the boy with the "cursed face?"
And then, he looked back up at Pitch.
He looked at his dark body, his long, grey face, sharp, golden eyes and dusty hair.
Taking in a shaky breath, he blinked away more, yet slower tears while the wind tossed strands of hair in his pinkened, chapped face.

"...You're different."

"Yes."

Vadim tread carefully.

"Do the creatures in your world push you away, too...?"

Pitch nodded once, slowly.

"They do."

"Do you...ever feel bad for being what you are?"

"No."

Such a concept felt far beyond Vadim's grasp of understanding.
He shook his head, uncomprehending.

"How?
If others push you away and are mean to you, then how can you be happy being different?"

At this, Pitch leaned in much closer, his voice deep and low, and ringing with a truthful purpose.

"I embrace it.
I know what I am, who I am, and what I need.
You may need more than I, but you must accept that this is the life you have been dealt, and carry on."

Again, Vadim shook his head.

"I can't do it by myself..."

"You may not have to."

"Huh...?"

"The great thing about this world is that, while it may be ruthless, there is always a place for everyone and everything to fit in.
Many find their place right away, but others, like you, will spend a lifetime searching for it.
And by that time, you'll find it was worth the grief."

Vadim suddenly found himself feeling a little less sad; just a little, but Pitch sensed his ease.

"So...
I won't be alone forever...?"

"No one is alone forever."

"Not even you?"

A hard clump of emotions sat in the bottom of Pitch's belly at that question.
If he was to be convincing, he needed to take his own advice.
He swallowed subtly, eyes sinking the slightest bit, and nodded, forcing himself to believe he could someday have companionship.
Even though at his core, he did not have high hopes.

"Not even me...
So."

Vadim watched as Pitch rose to his feet, looming over him once again.

"You can sit here and continue to pity yourself, or you can get up, and keep fighting."

Vadim sank a little in place, genuinely weighing his options.
His body was heavy and weak, and cold.
All he could fathom doing was laying down and closing his eyes for a minute, but he didn't want to be a casualty.
This ancient, dark spirit that only he could see believed in him, and that meant something.
So he rolled onto his knees, and planted his tiny hands in the old, dead grass, and slowly pulled himself to his tired feet.
With one last shaky breath, he wiped his eyes, puffy nose sniffling.
Pitch began to walk, and Vadim followed at his hip.
The spirit's hand lingered open behind the boy's head, guiding him without ever making contact.

"Very good.
Now then, I will show you where to find some fish in a shallow."

"I...don't know how to fish..."

"I will teach you."

Vadim leaned his head on the elder male's leg, and together they walked on into the woodland.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The boy belongs to rufftoon and the name Vadim was given to me by ks-claw !

---DO NOT STEAL MY STUFF!!!---