(Edited May 30th, 2019)

The warm rays of light from the rising sun outside ease me into consciousness once more, their yellow-orange colour illuminating the room the same shade as they. With a yawn, I sit up and flip the hood of Ink's jacket up over my head, looking at my bandaged hands in annoyance. I shoot a glance at the sleeping painter beside me, frowning at the cut on his cheek (that he refused to let me fix last night). Better to do it now and not have to worry about him being stubborn later...

With a sigh, I stand up, quietly walk into the kitchen area, and dig through the cabinets until finding the med-kit. Upon finding the small box, I remove a band-aid and a roll of gauze. Though the wound he suffered in the battle may be minor, it still needs care. I remind myself in silence, moving back over to him with the materials I found.  Gently taking his arm, I roll up his sleeve and unwrap the bandages from a few days ago, replacing them and gently laying his arm back on the couch. I cup his face in my hand and sigh, gently brushing my thumb across his cheek. He flinches slightly; Just as I thought... It hurts, but he's denying it. I take a medical patch out of the plastic box and place it against the painter's face. Peeling away a few strips of medical tape and stick the patch to his face, making sure it's comfortable for him. Striding back into the kitchen, I place the materials back in the med-kit and tuck it away in the cabinet where it once was.

"There," I murmur as I curl up on the couch again. I lean over to his face and give his cheek a small kiss before leaning against his shoulder once again. Yawning once more, I switch the television on and flip to the news station for my universe, hoping to know what was going on back at home. The T.V., however, shows only static, hissing quietly as it presents nothing to me about life. The news, the shows, the channels I normally watch have been reduced to static. There must be an issue with the satellites... Nabstabton is going to be out of his mind until they fix that.

Sighing, I switch it off (as to not wake anyone with the loud hissing noise) and settle back into the couch, looking around the room and listening to the slow ticking of the clock. All is peaceful, exceedingly more so than yesterday's endeavors. My mind begins to race as I close my eyes, questions bombarding my exhausted mind and leaving before being able to be answered, carelessly shoved away by other inquiries and emotions waiting to be queried. Stress begins to surface as my mind races to find answers, questions, clues, anything that could be a key to ending my confusion, though it finds nothing through the chaotic environment inside of it.

Trying desperately to push away the thoughts, I place myself back in what Ink called Outertale, the galaxy-like version of our universe but switched around, as normal universes apparently are. I can't imagine Papy being like Sans and the other way around... And an evil Flowey? Who could imagine that little guy biting someone's heads off when they talk to him... All my Flowey ever does is ask for college money and offer me 'Flowey Flakes'. Pretty sure those things are cardboard... he's too cute to refuse the offer, though. 

Outertale was beautiful, though...

The colours of the sky are what come to mind first for me. The swirling purple, red, and pink tones that made up it's beauty were breathtaking, separated only by the glittering stars that swam in their depths. Words wouldn't be able to describe what it would be like to live there each day, seeing the stars and not knowing that there was more, having nothing but the universe itself to replace the basic blue sky and fluffy white clouds that everyone else lives with. To the monsters living there, the sky we have would be beautiful as well, having never been seen before by them. 

It's kind of amazing how much perspective effects the ways of life. 

With a slight sigh, I rise to my feet and cover the painter beside me with a blanket.  The stairs creak audibly under my feet as I amble into the guest bedroom, my mind still clouded with thoughts of the future and thoughts of the past. A basic state of auto-drive has taken over my entire body, as all I can do is think about what happened (and what will possibly happen) to my friends, family, and I. I'm scared, and nothing can stop that.  With a heavy sigh, I tread into the bedroom, and from there into the bathroom. 

My eyes still hold dark grey circles underneath them, a sign of exhaustion and a large contrast to my normal skin tone. My eyes are still a dulled shade of E/C. My hair is a tangled mess of H/C knots. With a sigh, I push the faucet open and turn the knob to the right, heating the water. I cup my hands together to act as a container, gathering water and leaning over the sink. I splash my face with the water and stand up straight, turning off the faucet and drying my skin with a hand towel nearby. Sighing, I look into the mirror at my reflection again. 

As black as midnight, like pits of darkness or lumps of coal, my eyes are dark and empty. The irises, pupils, everything is gone, sunken into the voids of shadows that make up my once E/C eyes. A scream claws it's way up my throat and rings through the air, piercing the silence that once inhabited the sleepy house. My body tilts backwards, my balance seeming to be non-existent as I fall backwards and into the door behind me, sliding to the floor. My hands instinctively cover my head, clutching my hair in my fists as I scream in terror. Through the noise and the commotion, a voice cuts through as clear as day. 

"They can only keep me from your mind a moment longer, before the darkness usurps the light and the likes of you and I are one," 

"Leave me alone!" I screech at Nightmare's voice, tears dripping from my eyes. "Get out of my head, you devil!!" A pair of gentle hands wraps around my shoulders.

"Human!" A voice, familiar but not recognizable, bawls. "Human, what is the matter?! What has happened to your eyes?!"

"The Prince Of Darkness encloses from the sun and blocks the light, a beast of unimaginable nature has breached the border between life and death, the filth of the underworld pours into the day," I pant, grabbing at my hair. "The daemons have unimaginable power against the world, they use it against the ones who dream, and live, and cry, they feed!" 

The hands leave my shoulders, replaced my a single palm against my forehead. It emits a pale yellow light, one that nearly burns with it's intensity. "Leave this young mind, for it is not your place. Return to your devilish place of origin and perish from the light that fights against you. You are not welcome, nor will you ever be. Leave, or burn to dust." A gentle being's voice, the destroyer of darkness. Dream. 

My eyes open. All at once, my heart begins to race as my chest tightens, feeling as if the center of my head — right behind my nasal cavity — is being pulled. A sound roars through me as what look like black clouds press their way into my vision. 

Falling to the floor with a thump, I faint.