Chapter Text
Here's the honest truth, free of charge!
Ena can’t feel emotions.
Well, it's more complicated than that . It’s a generalization that doesn’t quite encompass her. She knows there is the absence of something, but there is still feedback .
Nerves reacting to stimuli, information curating responses. In lack of presets, Ena is frequently visited by whatever lines the difference between reaction and feeling. Any and all response is strained through two tones of expression, and little else.
Despite the blood rushing down in different flavors from different streams, it always congregates and disperses into the same two rivers. In those dual flowing channels, the currents become near indistinguishable beyond their shades.
More simply put, two expressions define them all. Frustration and business . Fortunately for her, bargaining covers most bases! Fake it until you make it, is she right or is she right?
However recently, much to Ena’s bewilderment, that had changed.
Her trip to the genie had left her with a hollow feeling. It trickled up from her chest into the cavity of her skull, alight with the sensation of her polygonal gut sinking through the floor. All she could do then was sit rigid and staring absently while she was devoured by the complete foreign feeling.
It was strange, it was unwelcome, it was familiar .
Fear. Ena has settled on. Unease , maybe even horror. In ordinary conditions the event may have fascinated her, but the invasion of sickly darkness that trickled down each of her vertices turned every little bit of her mind awash in frozen panic.
So, she did what any other entity would do. And ignored it.
Dwelling on it would do her no good favor. There was enough existential horror to go around. Of all things she didn’t need, the riveting exam called ‘Am I Broken’ is first on the list.
Ena had willfully assumed it’d be a onetime thing, after all she was more than familiar with her own nature. Bugs were to be expected, almost considered ordinary. Even the angelic objections were quick to abandon her after she departed the Lonely Door. This should be no different.
But sitting here on this rickety roller coaster plummeting towards nowhere, she realizes she was gravely mistaken.
They tip over the edge and hurtle down, down, down, and further down still, showing no signs of stopping. The circular rings of white porcelain that line the glass tube pass quickly, hypnotically, and only gaining speed.
The entire time she is enraptured by this feeling manifesting in the gut of her stomach. They had already been acquainted before, but this is a thorough pat-down. Like sour acid, sickly yellow strings of fire arch and dance along her nerves. It grabs ahold of her chest and twists, sensation in the expectation of something .
The claws of her icy blue hand move to dig into the gory cushion of the centipede, shakily slicing into it. She can hardly move beyond the instinct to ‘ just hold on. ’
So, she’s not sure why, but in their freefall, Ena steals a glance at Coral.
It feels like a mistake.
She’s not sitting more than she is completely draped over her corner of the carriage. Long limbs pin themselves to each nook, sweaty palms digging into the red shell for any chance at traction.
Her eyebrows are tight and furrowed. She grits and bares her teeth as horror paralyzes her features. Her coral twitches erratically, flashing deep red and pale white in quick succession. Her complexion briefly flickers between harsh and normal lighting, skin going grainy and black then pale again. Ena wishes she could look away.
It’s like watching a television flicker between static and broadcast, the glow of fear so irradiating Ena can’t help but stare. Whatever Ena may be feeling must be dwarf in comparison.
It’s her fault Coral’s in this mess… isn’t it? It’s her fault this is happening. Again.
Finally, the roller coaster collides.
It all happens in a moment. The glass around them shatters, bends, and snaps. The sound ricocheting across the playground and coalescing in a loud pop .
Coral Glasses’ body next to Ena is roughly ragdolled, slammed forward by the force of the roller coaster’s momentum seizing. Ena’s body follows, thwacked against the rails of the carriage with a twinge of sharp numbness. As the centipede falls down, Coral’s head lolls. Unconscious.
Ena watches, and feels, as the centipede’s body gets stuck on the freshly wounded collision of the tube and promptly scatters.
Their body carriage is abruptly twisted free from the centipede's torso, causing a low keening wail of pain to erupt from around Ena as psychics briefly lose all meaning. The crimson hide crashes into the splintered glass ground, dislodging itself from the rest of the tram as it falls through.
Ena braces herself for the oncoming onslaught of water only to shiver as the atmosphere shifts.
Projected inward was a dazzling blue open ocean, but as the glass warps and breaks, so does the illusion. Rather than water, Ena tumbles out into empty dark air. Pitch black void rushes to cradle her, unnervingly stale wind offering soft momentum in place of slack tides.
The world around her is dark and all-consuming, the glittering case of the playground quick to get swallowed up by the putrid black fog.
It’s as if reality closes in on her, forgoing utensils to eat everything in sight. What’s left is dark empty blackness and the dislodged crumbs of Ena’s centipede ride.
Her gut twists and her armature flips. She sees it for one moment, shadow peeling away to reveal the ground rushing up to meet her. What she feels next is the wonderful sensation of having her body slammed back into the gushy seating of the centipede and promptly pinned into the floor below.
The pressure is tight, but not overwhelming. Unconsciousness does not take her like it so mercifully did with Coral Glasses. The joints of the borrowed mannequin beneath her skin stay intact despite it all.
Pain lacks the decency to greet her, but dizziness feels right at home, smearing her world like a disturbed wet canvas while Ena scrambles to get her bearings.
Dust settles around her, and Ena blinks the world back into focus. Frankly she can’t see much anyway. She’s stuck underneath the bent and broken remains of the centipede cart and little light escapes her newfound prison to greet her.
She doesn’t sit in the shock of it for long. She has work to do. Regrettably.
Like a dismayed feline, Ena immediately begins to thrash. Ena coughs and sputters, wriggling herself with uncanny strength. She pulls and pushes, scrapping her claws against the ground to free herself from her crimson cage. Segmented limbs reach out disproportionate distances to pull herself free.
Each limb seems to have a mind of its own as she squirms. Her pale white arm drags itself free before tugging her left hand out from under the red headrest. Her legs go next, hopping over to the arms where she compiles herself piece by piece.
With an inconvenienced huff, Ena rights herself. Dusting off her green shorts and straightening her cap with a mechanical personality. Eyes flicking downwards, she takes in the mess.
Ena can only see a few feet ahead of herself before darkness claims her surroundings. In the short distance she recognizes, the floor below her appears to share the likeness of a keyboard. It’s broken up into pale beige segments with symbols marking each square protrusion. The remains of Ena’s cart lay broken and scattered against it.
Dark oil pitters and pools where the centipede’s armor twists into itself in nasty gashes. Its legs are still twitching, spazzing against the keyboard floor in a futile attempt to return to its body a world above.
The pallets shift and click under Ena’s weight, small taps declaring each of her steps as she backs away.
What a mess.
Being lost is a bad thing to be, but more importantly, it's an obstacle laying between her and the Boss. An abrupt pause in her plans drinking up whatever time Ena has left. It was more than unfortunate, it was planned. A subtle twitch of irritation ripples over the right half of Ena’s features as she mulls over her situation. The World clearly wasn’t making this easy for her.
Suddenly, there's a shift of movement beyond her.
Instantly Ena’s head snaps behind her, eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness with suspicious scrutiny. Her body eventually follows, turning on an axis as Ena steps forward with the trepidation of a spooked predator.
Something is here with her, and she’s alone to deal with it.
There was something about the dark fog and bone-like ingots beneath her feet that brought that unfamiliar feeling in her chest again. Unease and anticipation curled like rigid frost in the joints of her rig. The heavy feeling of cement tugging down on her gut.
Movement again. This time however, Ena recognizes the sound.
A pained gasp and the shuffle of limbs against constraints. The grunt of an entity dragging themselves upright with the accompanying creak of metal. Ena doesn’t need to look to know, but she does anyway.
“Ena?” Coral Glasses looks at her with a wide eye. There's relief in her voice, but horror too. The tall gangly business woman curls into herself, wrapping her arms over her chest as she glances around the surrounding environment. When Coral speaks again it's in a pathetically small voice that makes Ena’s throat constrict. “Where… are we?”
For a horribly long moment Ena remains frozen, the absence of breath caught in her lungs as she stares.
Ena makes a low noise of consideration, tilting her head as she examines the shaking woman. Coral’s anxiety is nothing new to her, but their change in scenery seems to have caused an exponential growth in the amount of sweat Coral produces. Her body language is odd, hunched over and defensive. Coral’s eye flicks from one dark corner to another as respiratory organs go into overdrive. She is shaking.
The sight makes the core of Ena’s chest go wet and gooey. In a bad way.
It’s inexplicable and leaves a harsh taste in Ena’s mouth. It's partly nauseous, a panic concealed under sheets of damp dread. Frankly she’s hardly felt anything like it before, but there’s been hints of it like seasoned pepper since this entire fiasco began. This time it’s like a punch to the tastebuds.
It’s confusing, and Ena decides then that she hates it.
In that slow silence, Ena remembers that Coral is expecting an answer. Consensus? Get a lay of the land.
Ena whistles in response to Coral’s anxiety, hesitant to admit her ignorance. Glancing around herself, Ena casually begins to scale the broken centipede ride to take in the scenery.
They seem to have landed in a deadzone of sorts.
There is a thick and steady silence that swallows up even the echo of Ena’s steps and shallow breathing of the woman beside her. The absence is only accompanied by the growing ringing in Ena’s ears, a steady hiss of static that passively hunts the quiet moments.
There's the aforementioned thick black haze that obscures her vision, a possessive dark grip snaking its way on the pale seabed. Dust particles fall like flightless stars, shimmering quietly in their slow descent. In the distant space she can see, Ena can make out the silhouettes of canyons, supposedly with the same keyboard texture.
Looking up, Ena glimpses the distant towering structures of coral spires reaching into the void-like sky. Following their outstretched growths, there's an unsurprising lack of playground. The glass-like realm has completely disappeared from view, that is assuming they’re even in the same world anymore.
Ena suddenly smiles, “It seems we’ve caught ourselves in a bit of a predicament, ah?” Even now she helplessly humors herself. Her head swivels around to peak at Coral and. Yikes.
Since taking her eyes off her, Coral had collapsed onto the floor. She’s slumped, knees weak against the bleached shore. The pale growth on the side of her face pulses and shivers, going absolutely haywire while Coral crumbles.
The sight is strangely more pathetic than before. Coral’s lucky they conveniently fell from the sky or Ena would have to cover for such an unprofessional display before onlookers. Not only that, but the mere sight brings more of that weird sodden feeling.
It’s frustrating and bewildering and it leaks past her lips in prickled teasing.
“ WHAT? Train crashes not part of the job description?? ” The eggshell white of Ena’s face sneers, a snarky smile worming its way onto her face as she looks down at Coral’s distraught figure.
“They’re not!” Coral erratically pushes through the greasy threads of her hair with splayed fingers, clawing at her scalp in a desperate attempt at grounding. Large beads of sweat shower down her face as she frantically takes in their situation. “The job said nothing about it!! And I’m not getting paid for overtime…!”
Ena’s expression falters, grin twitching downward. The intruding feeling merely intensifies, her stomach growing uneasy as Coral mumbles on the floor. Clearly that was the wrong thing to say.
“ Fuck . What am I going to do?” Coral’s composure splinters and snaps like rotting kindling. Her hands move from her hair to hold her face. She groans in the wake of her own miserable realization, “I should’ve stayed at the Vivarium.”
Ena’s mocking grin falls away into an unsure frown. She tilts her head innocently, tapping a claw to her cheek in thought. There was sparsely a time in Ena’s existence that had called for her to comfort another entity, but something in her compels her forward.
Wordlessly humming, Ena sidesteps the rubble and approaches Coral Glasses. She kneels down, equipped with a salesperson grin. “Your customer satisfaction survey submission has been received and overviewed!”
Her voice is loud and chipper, a bright beam of carefully crafted light seared from expertise and instinct. Her classic customer service cheerfulness doesn’t seem to immediately soften the reality of their situation, but Ena continues.
“To bad weather, a good face my dear compatriot. Think of this as a simple detour! Every good entrepreneur should seize each glistening opportunity, don’t you agree?”
Ena peers uncomfortably closer, head abandoning her shoulders in eager wait for Coral to transition from horribly mopey to painfully joyous. Once Coral realizes the inconvenient business opportunity that awaits her, she’ll laugh it off.
Only it never comes.
Coral’s breath quickens and her eye loses focus on Ena’s face. She pulls back, coral flashing alarms in Ena’s eyes.
“I can’t do this… I can’t.” Coral’s voice loses all equanimity, trading anxious complaining for panicked babbles. Ena watches the change unfold from bad to worse right before her eyes. “I need to get back. I need to leave.”
“Sure thing, the emergency door is just upstairs!” Ena helpfully supplies. An imitation of sweat oozes down her cheek, her smile growing increasingly more strained.
It’s not working. Too flashy, too saccharine. Salesperson is usually great at calming down customers, what changed? The more time Ena spends, the more time Coral grows hysterical. She needs to snap her out of it, but how?
“ HEY. ” Meanie barks, something between a snarl and a coo. Loud and distracting but lacking the same bite. Ena snaps sharp fingers in front of her face, Coral’s eye flipping to hers. “ Eyes to me. ”
Coral was tall, taller than Ena. But on the floor as she was Coral felt frighteningly small. It was unbecoming, yet Ena found no joy in it.
“ Nothing is going to hurt you, alright? ” Ena’s voice is softer than she expects. There's a genuineness to it that Salesperson lacks, and Coral can hear it. “ I’m going to get you out of here. ”
Coral peels back her fingers to look at Ena, level from her position on the floor. She is still distraught, red pulsing off her face in waves, but Ena has her attention. Her eye is tired, a dazed thing swathed in the shadow of unease. But the slight part of her lips and wide look give off a sense of surprise.
“ Are you good to walk? ” Coral nods, a soft dainty expression that catches Ena’s breath. She pointedly refrains from reaching out to hold her cheek. “ Good. ”
Ena straightens herself, standing back upright. She offers a red mitten to Coral, eyes gleaming down at her.
“ Now, about those germs. ”
Coral’s grip is uncomfortably warm and sweaty. Ena expected nothing less.
Their ‘simple detour’ has so far turned out to be more maze-like than Ena originally anticipated.
The encompassing walls of pale keys all start to look the same after the first few turns. There’s the occasional ominously floating keyboard fish that doesn’t react to Ena or Coral, but the zone thus far has been completely lifeless. Ena internally questions if they made the same turn before or erosion has preferences. The dark fog leaves much to be desired, blanketing the journey ahead in mystery and reducing the world behind them into half remembered memories.
Which only makes it all the more exciting, of course!
“We look to have found ourselves in a maze of opportunities!” Ena caws from ahead. “You’d do well to stick to your thumbs."
Only her own voice responses, echoing back to her with ghostly familiarity. Ena eyes Coral in her peripherals.
She’s since recovered from her breakdown, but ever since then Coral has been in a daze. Never quite looking at Ena, not quite talking either. She has withdrawn into herself, as she usually was. She seems rather complacent in the awkward silence that engulfs the two and has made no move to break it. Utterly content to fidget with the knot of her tie as she sunbakes in her own anxiety.
Fine then! Leave it to Ena to do all the heavy lifting.
She subtly diverts her course to walk closer alongside Coral Glasses, speaking with an easy smile, “I must formally apologize for dragging you along on my little venture. I had blindly assumed there would be no collateral damage.”
“Oh. It’s…” Coral’s eye flicks around herself, avoiding direct eye contact with Ena. “It’s fine.”
“Ah, spitting of collateral. If we hit the seabed, very well did our colleagues…” Ena thinks out loud, eying the dark yawning expanse above them before back to Coral’s face. “Keep an eye out for them, will you?”
Coral Glasses briskly nods in response, lips sealed in awkward restraint.
Ena’s smile never wavers as she peers up at her nervous companion, studying Coral’s expression.
Her head is deep in the troposphere, lost in thought. Her responses are noncommittal, and she avoids Ena’s eyes like the scorching sun. Occasionally she makes the mistake to look in Ena’s direction before darting away. Like an anxious paper boat, Coral never lands close.
Disappointment curls in Ena’s chest but she disguises it with a quick bob and spin.
They step past piles of mannequins slumped against the keyboard floor, legs and arms strewn messily along their path. Ena pays them no mind, dancing past limbs and abandoned vessels with mindless ease.
She’s a buzz of ambient noise, swerving and bouncing along the ground in nonsense movements. Alongside her Coral Glasses sticks to a static line, her narrow steps confining her to her own space. Her eye occasionally stares into the darkness for a breath too long, but Ena’s movements always bring her back.
Eventually, Coral speaks up.
“Sorry about freaking out back there.” She still doesn’t look at Ena, face dark in embarrassment and coral gently pulsing. She practically writhes in her spot, shuddering at the mere memory of it. Coral speaks almost under her breath as if cursing herself, “ That was so unprofessional. ”
She’s right, it was unprofessional.
“Affirmatively so.” Coral wilts, she wasn’t expecting Ena to agree with her. However, in a quieter tone, Ena adds, “But we have our moments.”
Ena would be amiss to neglect that, even with all her perfected sales, there were times where ‘ anxiety’ unwillingly caught up to her. She never was a big party animal.
“I hope you don’t mind my curiosity, but could I ask you something?” Coral blurts, fidgeting with the collar of her suit. It sounds like something she’s been meaning to ask for a while at this point.
Pleasantly surprised, Ena grins, “Shoot.”
“Earlier…” Coral scratches the back of her neck, an odd look of unease crossing her features. She seems almost embarrassed to mention it, a darker hue manifesting on her cheeks. “...you said something.”
Ena continues to stare at Coral blankly. She says a lot of things.
“In another voice? It sounded different.”
Ah, that's right. Up until a few moments ago, Ena had only ever spoken to Coral through the red half of her face. It’s something of a trademark for ENA, with each face home to a different voice box. That said, there are plenty of entities out there with unconventional communication methods, so it doesn’t stand out much. This does confirm something for Ena though.
Coral has never encountered ENA before.
With a smirk and a wink, Ena decides to humor Coral a bit. Her mouth unceremoniously flips to the right as Ena teases, “ YEAH? What about it? ”
Coral almost flinches, shifting suddenly to look at Ena with a wide eye. She attempts to obscure her face but the coral sticks through her fingers and betrays all subtlety, rings of wavy red jittering over Coral’s cheek. Strange.
“It just surprised me is all!” Coral looks away, covering half of her face with a pale hand. “I... wasn’t expecting it.”
Ena supposes it can’t be helped, but Coral’s behavior is exceptionally odd.
“Of course not. However, it is rather useful for dealing with rowdy customers,” Ena performs a gesture with her arms, “ AND PUTTING SUCKERS IN THEIR PLACE. ”
“I can imagine.” Coral still doesn’t look at Ena, but her hand leaves her face. “About that. How often do you, um… What do you do exactly?”
Ena is quick to launch herself into her typical corporate spiel, “I’m a master of all trades! I sell entities products they don’t know they want.”
The Boss owns the Vivarium. In possession of multiple Doors, the small island serves as a highway. He’s monopolized on foot traffic with slot machines and side hustles within each realm. Ena is one of such investments.
“Unfortunately, my work has been momentarily diverted in favor of finding the Boss. Thus far it’s turned out to be a bird’s nest of predicaments.” She does an exasperated sigh, arms rotating over her torso in a shrug. “My last venture in the Lonely Door was quite the tangle.”
Coral Glasses smiles before sheepishly admitting, “I can’t say I’ve ever been there myself.”
And she won’t. The genie quit soon after Ena made her aspiration. Until another genie is hired, the door remains closed and scrapped for assets. Not an unfortunate fate so much as it is typical.
Coral kicks aside a dislodged key on the floor, rubbing a thumb on the fabric of her coat. “Did you have a chance to stop by the Purge Event? There was a lot of talk about it. I’ve heard it’s really… something.”
Ena can’t help it. A violent twitch wracks Ena’s body as a spasm ripples through her features. There's a shift beneath her exterior, pins and needles dotting her gut. Ena remembers bright lights, toxic pink, and the jumbled chitter of idiots having fun .
“ I’M ALLERGIC TO FUN!! ” Meanie suddenly barks, talon-like hand making clawing motions at her hat as if the very notion makes her blood boil. “ Every party wants me dead and LIKEWISE– ”
“It distracts from precious company time.” The red half of her face suddenly interrupts with little fanfare. She looks away and giggles, “The Boss can’t afford such frivolous things like ‘employee mental excursions!’ It's simply not in the budget!”
“Oh.” Coral looks distraught again. The idea seems to cause her distress for some reason. “You don’t get breaks?”
“ BREAKS? HA. You sound like that lousy shaman. ”
If Ena needed to breathe, eat, or sleep, a career would be made out of it. She does her job and she does it well. It might as well be the only thing she does right. So why would she do anything else? Even if she wanted to, her schedule is absolutely booked. This lame job didn’t leave room for much else.
Besides, it’s just as she says! Business is like a meal, you don’t enjoy it until after you eat it.
Coral looks away, unnerved, “I guess each business treats their workers differently.”
The entire concept of time off grains against Ena’s existence like a cheese grater. She can still feel the phantom stir of her exterior snapping open.
In some ways, Ena is lucky . Most of hers wander aimlessly without purpose, pestering the world for Events and companionship to satisfy both sides of the same coin. Most of them never find it, but not her , not Ena.
She should be grateful, and that’s what they tell her.
But down beneath surface level, she hates it. ENA are a mess of contradictions. Always happy but always sad. Made to work but despise doing it. Ena is paid to work out her nature and she should be grateful . But she’s stuck.
Like a bug in a maze, endlessly clawing through task after task. Limbs scratching and crawling themselves forward in the dirt and blood. But when she finds that fateful end, she’ll round the corner into just another cage. Trapped in captivity for all those prying eyes.
A voice cuts through her thoughts like butter. How long was Ena lost in her head?
“Are you… okay?”
Ah, there she is.
Towering a foot above her, she stares Ena down. Her eyebrow furrows only slightly as her eye narrows, a sort of uneasy concern growing on her features. Ena finds herself reflected in the inky blackness of her gaze.
Suited in the same blank darkness, the woman covers herself in a layer of professionalism. There's detachment, but a surprising lack of heartlessness. It’s set up as a shield if anything, constructed from papier mâché it only serves to keep up appearances.
Beneath that tight professionalism is the wariness of a lost shambling fawn. She is stumbling but has not fallen. Ena is there but she does not reach out.
Who is she?
Ena doesn’t know, does she? A stranger lost in strangeness. But beyond that, there's something more there. Tilted halfway on the World’s axis, just a little bit too much to the left. Unordinary that clashes with the unordinary. That same coral with that same otherworldly feeling.
It’s both fascinating and familiar. Is that why she can’t help but feel drawn?
“Ena?” Coral is looking at her worriedly now.
“Enough about me.” Ena suddenly announces, abruptly clearing her throat before continuing, “Now, tell me, what is your occupation exactly?”
“Me? You already know why I’m here.” Coral looks at Ena with surprise. “I was hired to find someone to organize the Horse Door’s Welcome Party.”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. I’m familiar.” Ena waves off Coral’s speech with hasty impatience. “You’re a foreign hire, no?” Where did you come from?
Coral’s face scrunches up like she ate something particularly sour, red worry rippling through her coral. She seems to consider Ena’s words before shaking her hands in an appeasing gesture. “I’m not allowed to disclose important details with uninvolved entities.”
“Surely you can make an exception?” Ena cheekily grins as she drifts alongside Coral. Half her body floats above the floor, stomach flopped down midair like she’s a gossiping schoolgirl at her best friend's sleeping party. “After all, considering the statistics, there’s only so many entities that can say they’ve gone through a trainwreck together.”
“What?” Coral stifles a chuckle, offering Ena a puzzled look.
Elated, Ena continues, “We’re friends!”
Coral’s mouth gapes before looking away. She’s hiding her face again, but it doesn’t really work. “Are we? I don’t know– I don’t think... I wouldn’t call us that.”
Unperturbed, Ena continues. “Limited time emotional support associates?”
Coral’s face immediately goes several shades darker as she sputters a loud, “What??”
“ Or perhaps, long term confrères strung together by the holy code itself!” Ena winks, her body performing an exaggerated twirl in the distance while her head spins around Coral.
Coral must have felt some kind of sympathy because eventually she breathes, “ Fine .”
A large grin breaks across half of Ena’s face, but she reschedules her victory confetti in favor of watching Coral with rapt attention. Her eyes are wide and dilated, awaiting Coral’s response with a strange intensity. Coral notices and begins to fidget.
Coral sighs, a sort of relenting exasperation where Ena knows she’s won. Coral opens her mouth, closes it, sighs again, before finally responding, “Truth be told, I don’t–”
Whatever she says next is completely drowned out by the sky and Ena’s victory is ruthlessly swallowed with it.
An eerie groan reverberates through the undersea, singing nature and intent throughout the shallow darkness. It whistles through the air and vibrates in Ena’s chest, making itself at home within the rattle of her rig. Her exterior trembles with the force of it, the entire world shaken by the intruding song. This melody is wholly new to her, but Ena recognizes it all the same.
As corpses descend from the sky, bottom feeders come to collect their dues.
Coral seems to have felt it as well, but her face twists in unease. She bites her tongue, any and all hints of relaxation bleeding out of her as she is brutally reminded of the surrounding abyss.
“Ah, the dinner bell!” Ena chirps in a singsong voice.
“What?” Coral looks to Ena, suddenly panicking.
Ena shrugs, “The smell of gasoline must have caught their attention.”
“Sorry, sorry . Let me get this straight.” Coral Glasses pauses, stopping in her tracks as she frantically looks around herself. “Is something here with us now?”
“I undoubtedly assume so.” Ena’s eye quirks at Coral’s reaction. “But I’d pick dinner on a plate rather than on foot, so I’d say we’re in open water.”
“What does that even–?” Coral stares at Ena incredulously before shaking her head, cutting herself off. She starts moving forward, quicker now. A lithe hand reaches out to clasp Ena’s own.
“ We need to move. ”
Ena is startled by the sudden contact, a jolt running through her as her thought process promptly disconnects and blue screens. She’ll mourn the loss of her victory later, and remind Coral when the topic is back on the menu. Meanwhile electricity arcs through Ena’s chest, sparking alive a soft bubbly feeling that twitches her lips upward.
Ena is so shocked she nearly forgets to follow her arm as it is helplessly tugged onward, detached and pulled further into the darkness. She lets herself be dragged, weightlessly drifting through the air several feet behind Coral as she picks up the pace.
She’s frantic and fretful, the disloyal coral perched in place of her eye pulsing and oozing a panicked shade of pink. Droplets of sweat shower from Coral Glasses’ face as she pants and pulls a limp Ena forward. The scrambling of a cornered animal running from a threat it’s not sure exists. Suited in a facade of professionalism that disintegrates in the mouth of pressure. A paradox wrapped in ironed cloth and perspiration.
… What a woman.