When Chiya and Ketvia converged on him at the end of the bonding ceremony, of course the first thing Chiya's eyes lit upon was the new stain on his previously clean robes. When her gaze met his, he looked away from the mixed feelings there. She was silent, as if trying to contain herself, but her shadow was hissing fury and weeping sorrow at the same time. Ketvia didn't comment, instead ushering him cheerfully back to his room, and in contrast to Chiya, her shadow was silent. Chiya healed him completely, without a word, and Ketvia took his clothes to be washed.

The pointed lack of conversation about something that Cacopheny knew made both dragons unhappy was almost as wearing as the meeting had been. Hurting himself was necessary, if he wanted a little peace, he knew it was, but when Chiya looked at him with those sad eyes, all he felt was ashamed. He wanted to apologize, wanted to try and explain, but he couldn't break the silence they'd created. Not even the shadows were talking, stunned into silence by the unfamiliar sensation in their host of "shame". It was almost unbearable, how strained and guilty he felt until Chiya and Ketvia left for the night. Even after they left, the shadows stayed quiet, oddly subdued by the lingering feeling. Cacopheny didn't get much sleep that night, too fretful in the mental and magical silence, woken up from restless dreams at every little sound.

They made up for that the next day. They always got worse after any time he'd managed to keep them quiet for a while-- or even when they kept themselves quiet for a while.

Cacopheny woke in the early morning, as utterly exhausted as if what sleep he did manage to get drained rather than refreshed, to find himself already wandering around the room, with the remains of a pillow clenched in his hands and feathers floating everywhere. Startled and afraid, he dropped the fabric and backed himself into the corner with his nest of bedding. He could only count himself lucky that only a pillow had been destroyed, and not some poor, helpless candidate-- or worse, one of the dragons the shadows all abhorred, now that they were trying to infringe on what had previously been their territory, when it wasn't Hers.

The shadows were all laughing, threateningly and mockingly, knowing that when he was afraid, they had more power-- that was what had drawn them to him in the first place, to help him when he feared Her and Him. He knew it, too, but couldn't help himself. He tried to bury himself under his blankets, in the hopes that maybe if he could only focus hard enough, block out the rest of the world, he could keep himself in control of his own body and mind. He wanted to tear himself to shreds, if it would just make the laughter stop-- but they pulled up the memory of Chiya's tormented eyes and stiff silence, and he couldn't bring himself to.

We never thought you'd get so weak.

To let someone other than Her affect you at all.

So he didn't want to make Chiya sad. So what? Ketvia didn't want to make Chiya sad, either, and that didn't make her weak. That argument, however, didn't make the shadows leave him be. They just found more to talk about, to torture him with. Shadows who lived inside knew exactly what to say to bring hurts, smiles, laughs, or cringes.

He escaped the blankets to take a hot shower, hoping that the comfortable sensation of water hitting his skin would be relaxing and calming. It seemed like he'd only just turned on the water, however, that he was suddenly drenched and shivering, standing under a very cold rain of water, with the shower curtain in two long, rent pieces on the floor and puddles of water everywhere. It looked like everything was wet, including the towels he would have used to get dry.

Now look what you've done.

"Look what you've done!" he snarled, shutting off the water with a low growl and shaking himself off as well as he could, still shivering, before stepping out of the shower and into another puddle. As he looked around with helpless fury and despair at the mess the shadows had made with his body, they all just laughed. He had no idea how to clean all the water up, or what to do it with, since the towels were all soaked-- and after a moment of fierce feeling, he decided he didn't care. He'd warned everyone that he was crazy, that he was unpredictable. Well, this was what they got for trying to tame a half-wild half-demon!

Damn straight!

"And I don't care what you say, either," he hissed, glaring into the small, round mirror-- dripping liberally from water splashed across it-- at his own water-warped face. He'd gotten used to the sight of his own face, somewhat, since his first encounter with the mirror days ago, but this time it wasn't just his own face: it was his face with an unnatural light in his eyes, and a mocking smile on his lips. It laughed back at him, baring fangs, and he smashed the glass furiously, splintering the reflection and slicing his fist. The shadows fell silent for a moment while he cradled his bleeding hand, and in that moment it was so, so tempting to spread the pain, to keep them silent.

But then Chiya's shadow would cry, Ketvia's would snort derision at him, and the dragons would all know just how twisted and unworthy he really was. He licked the blood away wearily, watching more well up slowly to mingle with the droplets of water he hadn't finished shaking off. No dragon-child would want a demon who had to make himself bleed just to have some peace in his own head.

So don't bother with them, one of the shadows whispered.

We'll take care of you.

We always have, haven't we?

"You have," he agreed reluctantly, staring at one jagged cut in the fleshy side of his hand, still leaking dark red blood. "But you hurt, too."

We don't have to.

We don't want to hurt you.

You know that.

But sometimes we have to.

It's only what She would do.

"But I don't want what She would do!" he wailed, shaking with more than just cold, slumping against the wall and sliding down to huddle on the floor, in another puddle, trying to stop the bleeding with his tongue, not knowing any other way. He knew it was a lie, and so did they-- but they did not try to comment, because they didn't need to. He already knew.