They weren’t alone.

The voices of six purred from the woods, each with their own little quirk- one more bubbly, another stiff, inexpressive. Gale found himself immensely curious with them, although his attention was hooked on one of their lines in particular. Such a small, insignificant little comment, so utterly lacking in detail, but so utterly interesting.

[b]“That one over there...the chick...isn’t that…?”[/b]

Apparently, one of their number was familiar.

Gale’s eyes were kept wide in an expression, a look of alarm and childish fear, although internally he was spending more time mulling over what he had heard than anything else. The Politician’s little speech served as nothing but background noise, filed away for later inspection, but treated as background noise otherwise. Before the situation could escalate much further than thrown barbs and commentary, the Dorm Mouse had swept in, and they were running once more. 

Evidently, they weren’t out of the woods yet, however- both metaphorically and quite literally. The same ichor that made up the Rabbit surrounded them, building into odd sorts of creatures. Creatures that were immune to what weapons had been given to them.

Except one, of course.

As their dear, self-appointed leader demonstrated. 

Or perhaps not so self-appointed. 

Dear, dear Alice. 

Others began to call forth their own “Personas”, although as they burst with color and light and declarations of strength, Gale found himself...disconnected. As he were sitting as an audience of his own life, watching from a window deep within himself as he avoided the rage of the creatures. There was someone with him, and the someone was a gentleman with a soft face and the smell of smoke on his breath. They watched together, sitting in comfortable silence for a second that seemed to last hours, before the gentleman spoke.

[color=#9F000F]“It’s quite the passion, isn’t it? In all of them.”[/color] His voice was a purr. Like warm honey, fresh from the hive. [color=#9F000F]“Vengeance. Protection. The lust for life. Each of them, drawing from their desire for a common goal.”[/color]

[color=#F595E2]“It’s certainly fascinating to watch,”[/color] Gale said without speaking.

[color=#9F000F]“And yet, you feel nothing.”[/color]

[color=#F595E2]“Do you, sir?”[/color]

The gentleman chuckled. [color=#9F000F]“I’m a bit peckish, admittedly.”[/color] They both were. They both knew it. It wasn’t the hunger of the gut, but a more primal one, an emptiness inside their very being that begged and whispered and craved. They were husks in motion. The thought of death brought no fear. The thought of the children brought no sorrow. 

There was only the hunger of the soul. The hunger to feel something, [i]anything[/i], but that gnawing that ran so deep that they would tear the flesh from their bones if it meant filling the void, the gnawing that lessened ever so slightly and mercifully only a few times in their life, when Gale was twisting the leg of a sparrow, hearing the bone snap like a twig and hearing its tortured scream and feeling the pulse quicken and still and the warmth run through his fingers-

[color=#9F000F]“[i]Yes.[/i]”[/color] His voice, their voice, was a sigh now as Gale’s thumb ran over the opened and closed Chronovoker. [color=#9F000F]“I am thou. Thou art I. Let us fill our hunger until we burst, for I am a Geryon, and together, we are the monster of Deceit.”[/color]

Gale didn’t have to look to feel the creature manifest behind him. Instead, he only smiled, watched as the manifestation of his very soul sank its tail through the head of one of the monkeys, as the Shadow twitched and turned to ooze around it.

He brought his claws through a slime as it approached, although it was admittedly less cathartic to watch fall apart than the monkey was.

The monkeys would be his primary target.

Gale quite liked the monkeys.