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After much, much thought and a lot pacing around the living room in his home, Ink still hadn't made up his mind on his next plan of action to try and connect and speak to the glitch. After reading through the files and lines of codes a few more times, trying to figure out what he could possibly try next, nothing seemed to be popping up in the creator's head, no matter how hard he tries to think of something. He continued his pacing, stomping at points when he got frustrated, not knowing what to do. He had to do something, he hated procrastinating like this - trying to come up with something, anything. Usually the artist wasn't so at a loss of ideas but today he weirdly was.
He put his hands to his head and groaned loudly in frustration, rubbing his temples with his half gloved hands. His irritation echoed throughout his empty and quiet house, getting absorbed into the painted walls to never be heard again, only in memory if it ever occurs. After a few more paces back and forth in his living room, Ink eventually decided to take a break and walk into the kitchen for a small change in scenery.
He walked over to the sink and took a small glass from the side, turning on the cold tap and filling the cup with the sound of fresh water hitting he bottom of the glass. He watched it fill and turned the tap off when it filled half of the glass. The artist then drank the cooling liquid, feeling it refresh himself as he did so. He breathed deeply as the glass emptied and he put it back down on the side, calming himself down from his anger of no thought.
"Maybe I can..." He tried to force out a thought before shaking his head, "no, that wouldn't work." He put his hands on his hips as he thought. "Or maybe I can... No, that would't work either." The artist mumbled as one hand went up to his chin and held it, one eye a blue question mark and the other a blue square to match. He continued to do this for about two minutes before realising it was getting the creator nowhere. Sighing, he left the kitchen, went through the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. He walked down the hall for a moment and walked into the second door (made of oak) and into his bedroom.
Once inside of his bedroom he pushed the door closed, hearing the small click behind him before walking away, making sure it actually closes and doesn't just bounce off the doorway like annoying doors sometimes do. The creator slipped his shoes off and pushed them to the side, allowing his white, paint splattered bones to hit the soft, light purple carpet below him. He walked across the room to the open window on the other side just above his working desk, covered in paints, pencils, paper, whatever you could think of.
He sat on his black swivel chair and scooted the wheels forward closer to the desk, reaching over the light, birch desk to get to the window. Ink grabbed the handle and pulled the window shut, stopping the now cold air from filling up the once warm bedroom. It was late and the night time air was getting a bit to chilly. Usually he liked the cold air and the stars and the moon but tonight he was just stressed out and needed to think. The creator clicked the window closed and locked it.
Ink sighed for probably the hundredth time today as he sat back on his chair comfortably. "What have I gotten myself into?" He asked the empty room, or maybe asking himself, perhaps asking Error but he wasn't there to answer. "What am I going to do? What is there to do?" He kept asking himself these questions, not getting any sort of answers. Ink led his head back on the chair and stared up at the ceiling, ever wondering and ever thinking about all sorts of possibilities and scenarios, the bad things and the good things. All sorts of things really.
"Maybe I should just go to bed." He told himself, talking casually to himself and only himself as he had currently no one else to say it to. He leaned forward on his seat before standing up, shrugging his small jacket off and taking off his scarf to place it to the side. After folding it slightly so it wouldn't be creased by morning, he walked back to the door to turn the light off - the light switch being next to the door, on the hinge side awkwardly enough. Now, the only light that was shining in the room was from the moon coming from the window behind the desk.
Using this light, the creator made his way across the room and on his bed, jumping onto it slightly and feeling the soft mattress shift downwards beneath him. He led down slowly, getting comfortable as the creator wrapped the blankets around himself in a swaddle as he led on his back and stared up at the dark ceiling above him. Questions continued to run through his mind like race cars on the track, going at high speeds to win, yet there is no real finish line.
Then, he closed his eyes and allowed them all to drive off and crash, disappearing one by one as he relaxed into the bed and warmth of the blankets surrounding him. Soon, his mind was at ease and quiet, copying he rest of the room and his house. Silent, not a peep or a whisper to be heard. Nothing. There was nothing to hear now and nothing to see, all was quiet and all was peaceful. A nice way to end the day after so much stress and irritation flooding it before hand. However, now it was quiet and soon enough, Ink fell asleep.
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The air was non existent, no life, no light and no darkness. Just an ambience silence that played through the empty, blank space. A silence that echoed throughout the never ending void of nothingness. It was somewhat relaxing, left to your own thoughts, no birds, no people or wind. No traffic sounds or late night bars. Just nothing. That's all they'll ever be in such a cold and empty place. Cold. The place was freezing. No sun or air to be trapped left it in a continuous state of icy, cold space littering the blank void. It was just so cold.
Of course, this didn't seem to bother the personal that occupied such a vast place, in fact, they seemed very happy living in their void of solitude. He wore a black and blue jacket, his glitches in a frenzy around his black boned body, his eyes tuning in and out as he thought to himself about whatever he wanted to. Constantly watching and observing lines of coding swirling around his mind, hearing each thought as he saw fit. Seeing which universe would be best to get rid of next. Seeing which universe had to be put out of its misery next. Like a stray dog.
Then, his mind wandered to what he had revealed. What he let Ink see, what he let Ink hear from his very mouth. From his very being. He allowed the creator to see into his most prized and private space - his coding. Yet he wasn't that bothered by it. More, embarrassed. Embarrassed because of the state it was in, what he let Ink see, for only a moment. Letting the creator see his secrets, see small things about him that wouldn't of been known otherwise. The glitch was thinking why he would make such a decision, why he would act on impulse with such a giddy smile at what Ink's reaction may be to it all. As if he had finally found someone to talk to, instead of someone who would mock him or flee. It caused another small smile to appear on his face from thinking back to it, playing such a stupid game of tag with his supposed arch nemesis. How silly. However, he had found to actually like it, liking the small steps he was making to try and get closer. To try and get help from the creator. Error was proud of that.
Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor and sat down, staring at his hands. The hands that had killed so many, held so many screaming souls of agony and fear. Was he really helping people? Was he just a monster? He asked himself this because part of him very much enjoyed inflicting so much pain on people, seeing the pain and hysteria in people's eyes as he strikes them to the ground right in front of their families. Completely destroying lives for what Error sometimes sees as for the better. Perhaps the glitch was really just a psychopath. Who knows?
Error then led on his back, his arms resting on his stomach lightly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he relaxed. Being a void, there wasn't actually any light, so as he closed his eyes all the glitch saw was darkness. It was very relaxing to him, being able to see when his eyes were open, not being blinded when trying to sleep. Very nice indeed. He continued to take deep breaths, falling into a state of half awake and half asleep, that state your in before you fully fall asleep, where your just so comfortable and don't seem to recognize anything around you as you slip into your dreams and thoughts for a few hours.
"Why not just tell him what you think, Error?" The glitch's eyes opened up in a bored manner. In an irritated way, annoyed by the sudden interruption. These were 'askers', voices, the people Error has seemed to make up for whatever reason that might have happened to him in the past. However, it was all so long ago now, a distant memory that has been lost to time. Error never thought about that anymore now though, it was irrelevant.
Error shook his head, ignoring the question. He wouldn't say anything out loud, were they crazy? Who would do something that stupid. This was a game of waiting and Error was prepared to wait as long as he needed to. Even if it were to be a few thousand years, he would still wait for the creator to approach him first. This was only for one reason, the glitch was too scared to act or speak out about it. He was known for being the big, bad wolf that came to blow your house down... and kill your family and friends. Not a big teddy that just wants a damn hug. If Ink wants it, he's going to have to force it out of the glitch - who, to be honest, will only complain a little to not show his intentions completely.
He just hoped that this was soon. This cycle of hide and seek and tag was really starting to get to him.
Hey, my beans!
I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, a bonus one from the original story! I really want to work in more character development, as said many times now oof. I hope you enjoyed reading it, if not, oh well. That was a waste of about 1,800 words. OOF
Laterz.