The portal opens up in the middle of the forest. Nighttime birds and insects fall utterly silent when Dust screams and launches a series of bones attacks at the trees. He rakes one hand down his face and leaves shallow scratches. Dust howls again launches more attacks. The roiling emotions he feels are too much for him. Dust smashes his fist into a tree and then lashes out with his other. Cracks splinter his knuckles and the tips of his other fingers are bruised.

The pain helps, but Dust is still not in control of himself. He mutters to himself feverishly and paces around the area. Blood leaks from his cracked hand. Out of all the bad Sanses, Dust has the highest Level Of Violence. Even Killer prefers to toy with his victims instead of outright killing them like Dust. This gradual change in the group's behavior is the hardest on Dust. He doesn't know how to live without constant violence. He barely remembers a time before all this started.

Hours pass before Dust can get a handle on himself. By that time, he's emotionally and physically exhausted after draining his magic. His hand has stopped bleeding by the time he drags his sorry self through the manor's front door. Too tired to bother going to his own room, Dust finds himself sitting in the living room with his legs pulled up to his chest. No one else seems to be awake. The utter silence is comforting. Dust is starting to nod off when a set of purple eyes peek around the corner. Dust jerks back awake as Vestige looks at him. Nervously, Dust looks around the room for Nightmare as Vestige lets go of the wall and drops to his hands and knees. The tiny not-a-skelton isn't very good at walking yet. Vestige babbles something as he crawls across the carpet.

Seeing Vestige alone is a rare sight. Nightmare is almost always a step behind him, and if not, it's Cross or Horror while Boss is busy. Dust is unsure what to do as the child approaches. Vestige crawls up to the other side of the couch and uses it to pull himself up onto his feet. From there, he just stares. That quiet stare reminds Dust of Stray. A faint echo of something like guilt rises up in Dust. How could have that kid known not to touch him? Those that he's on friendly terms have known for a long time to avoid touching him directly. Dust almost took Killers head off once in the early days from a similar reaction. Sudden unexpected touch pushes Dust into a rage that he often can't control. He has no time to brace for it.

When was the last time that Dust tried to touch someone? He can't remember. Being so easily overwhelmed is also a weakness that grates on his nerves. Simple emotions shouldn't make him nearly loose his mind with a brush of the fingers. Dust nearly splattered Stray against the ally wall for it. Vestige still stares quietly. Would Dust feel any different if it were on his own terms? With his magic depleted and Vestige almost immune to physical attacks, the thought lingers.

Only a couple feet separate them. Dust is almost annoyed with the idea of humoring himself, but after a minute of contemplation, he slides one hand out of his pocket. The cracks catch the light coming in from the windows. Vestige doesn't move as Dust brings his hand closer. The kid's purple eye lights follow the fingers. Dust's hand starts to shake a little when he gets close. He hesitates just before touching Vestige's shoulder and hovers there for long minutes. A depressing thought crosses his mind. It sounds an awfully lot like his brother's voice. Does Dust even deserve the touch of another monster after what he's done? Before he can make up his mind, Dust notices a dark shape in the corner of his vision.

Dust jerks his hand back and leans further into the couch. Nightmare stands in the door frame with his one glowing blue eye, quietly assessing. He only enters the room after it's clear Dust has noticed him. Nightmare wordlessly walks forwards and scoops up Vestige with one tendril.

"Let me see your hand," Nightmare states firmly. Dust hesitantly complies. Nightmare holds Dust's wrist by the sleeves as he inspects the cracks before beginning to heal them. Dust squirms uncomfortably. How long was Nightmare standing there? He had to have seen what Dust was about to do. Nightmare knows first hand how badly Dust can react, so why is Nightmare so damn nonchalant about it?

Long minutes pass before Nightmare speaks again. "Despite what you think of yourself, I know that you wouldn't hurt Vestige," Nightmare says, letting go of Dust's hand.

The other pulls way and cradles his hand. "You can't know that. Not for sure. I'm............," Dust hesitates, not completely sure that he wants to show such vulnerability, but then continues. "I'm a real monster."

Nightmare lets put a soft hum, expression as unreadable as ever, but he doesn't yet try to argue. "It's late. You should head up to bed. Those bags under your eyes are ugly." Nightmare says the second part a little more harshly, making sure that Dust knows he can't try and hide his sleepless nights.

Dust looks a little annoyed, but does what his Boss says. He slips off the couch and trudges up the stairs without another word.

***************

Dust is lightly dozing when a knock at the door startles him awake. Deep sleep is rare for him. Dim light streams through the crack of the curtains in his room. Discarded clothing and spare weapons litter the floor. Most of the rooms looks like it's been untouched for a long time. The only thing free of dust is the black violin case discarded atop a pile of torn shirts.

When the knocking goes on and on without stopping, Dust has a pretty good idea of who it is. He sits up with a groan. There's a dull ache all over Dust's body from his meltdown late last night. The sleep has helped replenish some of his magic. Dust picks up his jacket from its spot discarded on the floor and shoves one arm into the sleeve while heading towards the door. The knocking still continues in a rhythmic pattern. Dust swings open the door with a dead expression plastered to his face. Killer gives him a shit-eating grin when they face each other.

"What do you want?" Dust says a tad coldly. Those that know him well recognize that as one of his more friendlier greetings after being woken up so early.

"I'm going knife throwing," Killer chirps, "And you're coming with me." Killer throws an arm around Dust's shoulders and jerks him forward despite a hiss of protest. It's mostly thanks to Killer that Dust has any bit of tolerance to touch. They had quite a few brawls in the beginning with often bloody results, but now, Killer seems satisfied with simply avoiding uncovered bone.

"I'm not going," Dust grunts. He tries to slip away, but Killer forcefully pulls him back.

"No, no, no, you're coming. You can't sit in your room all day like some kind of off-brand vampire," Killer scoffs. He keeps one arm around Dust and continues to push him forward. "I found this new spot that we haven't thrown at before".

Dust can certainly put up more of fight if he chose. When push comes to shove, Killer is usually outmatched against Dust. They both have a similar 'level of violence', but Dust is more cunning and dead set on winning. Killer can't force Dust to do anything he doesn't want to do. When Killer snaps open a portal and continues to chatter non-stop, Dust lets himself be lead through. Dust feels a shred of fondness for the other somewhere deep in his dark soul despite Killer's annoying antics.