Chapter Text
Your name is ROSE LALONDE, and today, you have finally reached the largest landmark in your entire life.
You honestly weren’t expecting anyone to ring the doorbell on this chilly, bleary-eyed January morning, but because your mother had decided to invite people over (and you aren’t as ungracious as to turn people away at the door), you’ve reached your current predicament. One that you outwardly claim to resent, though you were actually secretly hoping for.
Your modest house is decorated in party streamers of pink and purple colors, celebrating an occasion that you have been raised to believe to have a somewhat laughable amount of significance. You are currently seated in your one and only high chair at the head of your dining room’s rectangular table. Your three best friends are in their respective chairs, with one on the right and two on the left, while your baby kitten sits in his own chair to fill the awkward open space. Composed, you sit quietly as your guests make ridiculous banter to amuse you.
Today is your 7th birthday, and this is your party.
"--and that’s how I found out I was allergic to peanuts!” One of the boys exclaims, a bit too enthusiastic to share his severe medical condition. “Isn’t that cool? You think it’s cool, right? Dave? Rose?”
“Mhm.” You respond apathetically, not even looking in his direction. He apparently notices this, however, and you’re met with an indignant whine.
“Gosh, Rose! Were you even listening?" The high-pitched pouts of none other than John Egbert reach your ears, and with a slight smile, you give him a sidelong glance. His messy black hair is full of cowlicks, and his big blue eyes are wide underneath a slightly furrowed brow. Just by looking at his face you can tell that he has a bad habit of sucking his thumb, what with his comically large front teeth, but you also used to see him with his blanket all the time in daycare. You’re pretty sure that he’s going to be a dentists’ gold mine when he gets older, but you pride yourself on having restrained yourself from using anything aside from a pacifier as a baby.
"Aww, it’s alright, John! I thought that was a pretty interesting story, especially the part where your dad carried you to the car after you accidentally ate the sandwich!” A girlish voice replies to John’s concern, something akin to sunshine in her tone. Jade Harley isn't really your friend, but your mom works for her grandfather's company, and you know that it's best to be on good terms with her. Despite her wealthy inheritance, Jade is fairly nice to you, and you have no reason to act sour towards her. You smile in her direction, as she saved you the trouble of responding to John’s quiry, and she responds with a goofy grin as John inhales to continue his story.
"--When is food getting here? I’m hungry." A quieter voice interjects suddenly. John’s mouth was half-way into forming the start of a new sentence, but even his attention was diverted as someone else decided to join in on the conversation. Looking to your left, you meet the crossed arms and slightly-red face of Dave Strider, who still seems to be in a huff about being forced into a high chair. Of the three guests attending your party, you think of him to be your closest friend, though you’re fairly sure that he has no idea what he’s talking about when he uses things “ironically”. You’ve noticed in the past at school that he has a hard time making friends, but in the four or five hours he’s been here, he’s miraculously opened up to two new people-- an accomplishment you almost didn’t expect.
Your ears prick slightly in your reminiscing, and you recognize the muted sound of adult murmuring. Looking past John and Dave, you squint in the direction of the kitchen. You manage to catch the lights turning off, and small, warm flickering lights dancing against the far wall. Good timing, you think, and before John can start off a new tangent, you silence him with a quiet finger against your lips.
The house lights dim, fading to blackness. John lets out an audible gasp as Jade giggles, clapping her hands excitedly. The scent of confectionery perfection weaves its way into the room, and you inhale deeply. As much as you resent your mother's insistence to feed you the treats and sweets that your godmother bakes, you truly do love the old woman’s cooking. Besides, what seven year old can resist a red velvet and cream cheese birthday cake?
Happy birthday to you,
The singing starts softly as four flickering pieces of fire come into view around the kitchen corner. Roxy, your mother, is carrying a circular cake about as large as a dinner plate. The light illuminats her pale skin eerily, as if she's ethereal, and her natural eye color is exchanged with a pitch black in the dimness. Her smile is wide and warm, endures through the syllables she sings. Your mother doesn’t typically like to sing, but she always makes an exception for your birthday. Among the deep voices of the men, and the old woman’s gentle crone, her voice is mesmerising. You can’t look away.
Happy birthday to you,
The procession behind Roxy emerges from the kitchen. First, it’s your godmother, whom you call Auntie. Or, more informally, Nanna, who is actually John's grandmother. Because of extraneous circumstances, however, your mom had designated Nanna to be your second guardian in case something happened. Your mom's boss, Mr. Harley, has his hand gently resting on Nanna's shoulder, a smile barely visible underneath his bushy mustache. Entering last is none other than Dirk Strider, whom, though aloof, is a thoughtful and considerate man. You don’t quite understand how he met your mother, but you know that they’re incredibly close.
But none of that really matters, because now that you can see it clearly, dear squiddly does that cake look good.
Happy birthday dear Ro-se,
The sugary masterpiece is placed in front of you on the table, your eyes about level with the tips of the candles. The glowing orange flames seem to dance to the rhythm of your breathing, and you can feel all seven sets of eyes on you as your mother removes her hands from the cake.
Happy birthday to you.
The chorus ends on a flat and rather loud note as John interjects dramatically, causing Nanna and the Harleys to burst out laughing. Roxy offers a mild chuckle while Dirk and Dave remain passive, but even in the darkness you can feel them smiling.
Today is a good day.
Today is your birthday.
Today is the day you turn 7.
"Make a wish, honey." Your mother whispers the reminder in your ear, her voice as smooth as silk. You bite your lip silently, thinking hard. Everyone already knows that you take this process very seriously, and even though the other three kids are obviously anxious to feast on their next meal, they can live, you think. If you waste this wish, you have to wait a whole year to make another one, you think. The silence in the room spans eons as everyone waits for you to blow out the candles. You have their attention in the palm of your hand. What’s eluding your grasp, however, is what you should wish for.
You could easily wish for a pony. That’s what you wished for last year, and it couldn’t hurt to stay consistent. Or, maybe, you could wish for one of those new gaming systems that came out last Christmas (which you abstained from purchasing simply because you were too attached to your original DS, which is covered in cat stickers to this day). You could wish for something for Jasper’s sake, even though that’s not really how wishes work. But you like being different.
Thinking differently is something you enjoy.
Being different is what defines you.
...So why not take it a step further?
In unison with the seven sets of lungs, you take a deep breath.
I wish I was special.
The candles are blown out in one large breath.
There is a loud bout of clapping as your mother slips away to turn the lights back on. Your kitten, Jaspers, politely meows his congratulations at you from behind Jade. You can tell that your friends are all too focused on the cake to give their own individual cheers to you, so when Dirk suddenly moves towards you with a cutting knife, you try your best to scoot the tower of saccharine substances in his direction in order to release the spell the delicious monstrosity has over your friends. The lights fade in as he cuts exactly eight pieces, and Nanna produces plates without missing a beat.
"I want the one with the flower on it!" Jade exclaims as Mr. Harley starts doling out the wedges. The corporate princess is given what she wants, and she doesn’t hold back. It doesn't bother you all that much, seeing as it's still your name on the cake she's eating, but you can't help the slight irritation that sinks into your brow before you feel your mother's calming touch on the back of your neck.
"Which slice would you like, Rosie?" She asks you, leaning over so that her unblemished features hovered right next to yours. With uncharacteristic shyness, you point to the one with a capital R in white cursive frosting. Dave and John were shoveling cake already, but all of the adults had politely restrained themselves in favor of you, the birthday girl. Your preferred piece is delivered without question, and you're handed a purple plastic fork. "I hope you enjoy it, dearie!" Nanna smiles from across the table, her dentures glinting a bit in the light. You nod happily in her direction, and proceed to dig in.
The festivities last long into the afternoon. Pin the tentacles on the octopus provided interesting results when John missed the target completely. Dave accidentally sliced your octopus pinata in half when he was given the baseball bat, though only you, John, Jade, and Dirk seemed approving of the result. You manage to convince Jade to play the werewolf in a make-believe fantasy game, and she turns out to be a surprisingly good antagonist. While the adults watch from lawn chairs, childish laughter fills your backyard. You've never had as much fun in your life; and things only got better from there. You accidentally smack John in the head with a foam noodle during your Star Wars recreation, and you managed to wrestle Dave to the ground (though he won in the end). The highlight of the whole day, however, was when you cleverly tricked Jade into getting locked outside during duck-duck-goose.
By the time the sun starts to set, the four of you are breathless, lying in the trampled grass with your eyes toward the firefly-lit sky. You tickle Dave's foot with your toes, getting disgruntled noises from a much-too-tired boy while John and Jade guffaw to themselves.
"Can you stop that already?" Dave manages to groan, rolling over on his side and curling his knees in attempt to move out of your reach. "The tickle monster never stops!" You reply with a muted war cry, propping yourself up on your elbows before crab-crawling towards him. Once you get close enough, you balance on one leg, lifting up the other and waving your dirt-covered foot in his face. "En garde, knight of valor!”
"En garde? What's that mean?" John asks from beside you as you lunge once more for Dave, who has by this point scrambled to his hands and knees in order to get away. "Beats me! Maybe it's like, French, or something." Jade replies dreamily. You, however, are too busy chasing the young Mr. Strider, running by now, though both of you are sorely out of shape. Your hands are outstretched, grasping at his fluttering white shirt hem. An inch-- a centimeter-- you've got him! Your fingers wrap around fabric right before he is swept up out of your eye-level, making you lose your grip. You manage to run right underneath Dave's dangling feet before you realize your short-lived success and flustered confusion paints your face red as you turn to see what's happened.
"Sorry, Rose. The lil' guy an' I gotta go." Dirk apologizes, Dave's flailing limbs and embarrassed screeching voicing his discontent with his own situation. John and Jade simultaneously moan complaints from somewhere to your right, and you can't help but feel a bit disheartened yourself, panting out breaths here and there to recover from your sprint. "Do you have a long job tonight, Dirk?" Your mother's voice comes from behind you, and her hand caresses the crown of your head. With your neck craned upwards, you see the man's head bob in response, his sunglasses glinting in the dimming twilight. Dave's legs have, at this point, fallen limp in submission.
"I got the call earlier this mornin'," He explains. You start to tune him out as he begins to speak about terms and conditions you don’t understand, and your exhaustion makes you impatient for him to finish. But your mother's hand keeps you rooted in place, obedient, as you shift from foot to foot.
Your mind starts to wander a bit. You begin to wonder if your wish will come true. And if it comes true, when will it become apparent? You stare off into the distance mindlessly before Roxy taps her forefinger on your headband, returning your attention to the discussion.
"What if I keep him for the night? Rosie, you were thinking about having a sleepover next week, right? How about I move up a bit, and you have an extra-long party?" Your mother offers. Your eyes lift from the ground to Dirk's face, who meets your growing anticipation behind his shades. A smile spreads across your face.
"Can I?" You ask giddily.
You see Dirk's lip twitch up into a smile, and in the blink of an eye, Dave is on the ground, still slightly dazed from having blood rush to his head. You take his hand and pull him towards John and Jade as your mom begins discussing the details with Dave's guardian, and the four of you reunite. Jade’s hand manages to find its way into your grip. Your eyes meet John's as his fingers link with Dave’s. The black-haired pair clumsily slap palms together, and the four of you are suddenly in a small, tight circle, as you never let go of Dave. A deep, wordless understanding passes between all of you, and you realize very suddenly that you incorrectly used your wish.
I wish that I'll always stay friends with them, you think to yourself. You know it's too late for that to count as your official wish, but you don't care. It had to be said sometime, so that you would let whoever-- whatever-- was listening in on your thoughts know that, yes, you cared about these dorks, and you never, ever wanted to see them go.
"Ro-se, ki-ds?" Your mother calls across the yard at last. You turn to look over your shoulder, subtly squeezing the hands in your grasp. Please let them stay, please let them stay...
"Darlings, head inside, it's starting to get cold out. Rose, grab some pillows blankets from the foyer closet. I'll set up a movie for you all to watch in the living room, pronto." Roxy says, a smile on her face. Dirk is nowhere in sight, probably having already left for whatever he needed to do, though Nanna and Mr. Harley are off to the side, watching you expectantly. You show a smile of your own, nodding excitedly before letting go of Dave's hand, dragging Jade (and John, who was still clinging to Dave) inside. Tonight was going to be great. You had just the movie in mind to watch, and as much as Egbert was going to try to badger you, there was no way you were going to watch National Treasure two times in a row.
Popcorn is swiftly prepared by the four of you, though John messed up melting the butter. Dave offered to clean it up for you, which you gladly accepted (as you were too short to reach the microwave, even on the step-stool), and you and Jade then managed distributing the popcorn evenly between four bowls. Dave finished cleaning earlier than you had expected while using some kind of secret culinary technique, and the two of you then walked out into the hallway to grab some stuff to sleep on. Your mother pulled the built-in mattress out of your living room couch, and Dave oh-so-carefully threw pillows all over it. One blanket was provided for each movie viewer, including your mother. “She’s going to watch it with us?” Dave had asked, almost in shock. “No, Dave. She’s going to read the synopsis online and then have us answer questions about the plot afterwards.” You responded with a snort, taking a fifth blanket as a precaution.
Your mom read your mind without even trying, you conclude as you returned with the blankets. She had set up the DVD player with the Princess Bride, and you were ecstatic to see it for a fourth or fifth time. “This is what you wanted, right?” Your mother smiles as you ceremoniously dump your bundle onto the mattress. “It was sitting on the table, so I thought you probably had it planned out already.”
You nod. “I was planning on educating Egbert on proper movie quotations,” You say rather pompously, and a muffled exclamation comes from the kitchen. A mass of black hair pops out from the doorway. “What’d you say, Rose?! Huh?! You wanna go?!” He challenges, a fist balled in your direction. Your mother gives a roll of her eyes before you smugly respond, “Inconceivably, no.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dave smirk at John's bewildered expression.
Your mother takes the second couch while you, Dave, John, and Jade pile on top of each other, balancing your bowls wherever you can find space. Jade snuggles into your side while Dave allows John to rest against his leg, and your mom uses a remote to start the movie. Before Princess Buttercup even gets to her first line, though, you’ve kicked John at three time to make his obnoxious remarks stop. “And you call yourself a cinephile!” You whisper furiously. “I am a cinephile!” He responds hushedly, sticking out his tongue. Five minutes later, you hear him ask Dave what a cinephile actually is. You snort.
Before you know it, it’s dark out. Inigo has finally gotten his revenge on the 6-fingered man, Westley has been reunited with the Princess, and your popcorn bowl is empty. In the light of the TV screen’s scrolling credits, your mother is sleeping soundly, John is snoring with his mouth agape, leaning against the backrest where mattress met sofa, and Jade and Dave are tucked under the same blanket after fighting for it around the poison-drinking scene with you on Jade’s left at the edge of the bed. Your eyelids are heavy, as they should be, since it’s already somehow become 11:30.
You turn your head to get more comfortable. The soundtrack that plays along with the credits makes it hard to stay awake. Sleep will overtake you soon, you can feel it. You muffle a yawn, not wanting to disturb the others, grabbing your favorite pillow and burying your face into it. You can tell that Jaspers had been rubbing himself on it earlier due to the fuzz that accidentally enters your nostrils, but luckily, you don't sneeze. Instead, you hear a slight rustling sound. And then, a hair-raising noise-- as if something is dragging itself along the carpet.
All at once, you are reminded of your fear of the dark. You had grown out of nightlights around the age of 4, but you were usually asleep by the time the moon was unable to filter through your bedroom window. To your dismay, there were no such windows in the living room, clouds were apparently obscuring the moon, and the single ray of light (aside from the TV) was being cast from a small wall-plug near the kitchen.
The racket gets louder. You can tell that it's approaching you, but you can't bring yourself to move. You'd disturb Jade, and, well, it'd be stupid if it was just your paranoia that woke her up. But for some reason, you can tell that this isn't just your typical run of the mill bedtime story monster. Something was actually crawling across your floor. And apparently it was coming from the direction of your front door, as iit was casting a shadow unlike any you had ever seen as it made its way towards the back of the couch your mom was sleeping on. You feel your throat tighten. Maybe it was just Jaspers. But what was the breathing lump of fur next to your arm? Perhaps it was one of your wind up dolls. But dolls don't wind themselves up, and you don't even have any dolls that wind up to begin with. With a tremendous feat of self-restraint, you freeze, trying to figure out what grotesque form would be able to cast such a shadow. You’re not going to scream. You not going to be scared. It’s just your imagination.
You see a small tentacle flop out from behind the couch.
Your breathing stops.
The blob hauls itself into view, and you finally get to see what shape had caused the penumbra you had seen. The creature is actually no larger than your kitten. In all honestly, it looks like a small octopus, but as far as you can tell, it seems to be missing a few legs. Two eyes that are comically large for its tiny body blink, its pupils rapidly contracting and expanding in order to adjust to the shift in light from the kitchen to the living room.
And then, they focus on you.
The tentacles never stop twitching, but you can see its face intently studying yours. You lay motionless, praying that you're hallucinating like your mother when she drinks her sharp-smelling grape juice. You hope that, whatever it is, it's not dangerous. You wonder if this is all just a dream, and if today wasn't actually your birthday at all. Then, suddenly, its entire body shudders. And somehow, the creature makes the sweetest, softest chirps you've ever heard.
”...R...Ro-se?”
Your eyes widen. It recognizes that you're conscious, and seems to hop a little bit, its appendages flopping about in delight. Your head lifts slightly, and you wonder yet again if this is a dream. Being careful not to startle Jaspers, you do your best to slide off the bed without disturbing anybody else. You drag yourself forward towards the end of the bed and put your elbows on the carpet, supporting your weight with your arms before gently removing your legs from the tangle. Once completely on the floor, you crawl on your elbows towards the tiny squid-thing. It, in response, begins to squirm its way towards you, all the while making clicking noises in your direction.
You're not quite sure what to think of it, really. It doesn't look like any animal that you've encountered at the zoo before, and your mother sure hasn't told you about any squids or octopi that look like this. Yet, as you reach out a tentative hand, the ball of smooth scale-like flesh rolls its way into your palm, its writhing limbs wrapping around your fingers and wrist as you lift it off the floor and out of the shadow.
It hums into your hand. Somehow, deep inside of you, you know that something is wrong with the purple-hued… thing. But at the same time, you can't bring yourself to call it a "thing". It communicated with you, which means that it's at least sentient. And as you tilt its body this way and that, you can see that it has a sort of iridescent sheen in the pale light.
"What's your name?" You whisper towards it. The eyes which had so innocently gazed at you from behind the couch look up once again, its entire body seeming to rotate in your palm in order to inspect your down-turned face. The creature seems to think, or so you believe, before it chirps its response.
"ph-le-gu-th-gn"
Your brow scrunches slightly. It had spouted nothing but a mixture of consonants and a few vowels. Perhaps you had been imagining things when you heard it call you earlier.
"...can you understand me?" You attempt, giving it the benefit of the doubt.
"y-es"
...that's strange, you think to yourself. It can understand you and say your name, but it can't pronounce its own? You try again, just to make sure.
"Can you say your name one more time?" Though politeness might be wasted on the creature, you figure it couldn't hurt to try.
"ph-l-eg-u-th-gn!"
"Phleguthgn." You repeat, confirming what you think you heard. Its body seems to shiver in delight as soon as the last consonant falls off your lips, and for a moment, you swear you feel it pulsate in your palm. "Ye-s," it chirps, its tentacles curling and unfurling rapidly.
"What are you doing here?" You question, tempted to poke its strange, squishy form. The alien rolls around your hand before its eyes once again meet yours.
"y-ou-wi-shed-fo-r-m-e" It squeaks brokenly.
Incredulously, you squint.
This has got to be some kind of joke, you think. Sure, wishing on the candles of your birthday cake is a tradition that you follow for the sake of your friends and to maintain some sort of image. But for something like this to come true? You couldn't believe it. Logic wouldn't allow for an occurrence such as this... right? Yet... Here he--she--it is, Phleguthgn, gently squeezing your thumb in its tentacles, begging for your attention with high-pitched clicks and squeals.
As naive as the mass of scales and flesh seems to be, you can tell that this being holds more knowledge than you could imagine. Your hand is growing numb simply from being in contact with it. It was extraterrestrial, that much you could tell, yet it seemed oddly attached to you, and willing to answer whatever you wanted. And there question had been bothering you from earlier, so... why not ask?
"...Phleguthgn... Am I... special now?"
The tentacles stop moving.
For the longest time, the creature doesn't so much as twitch. Towards the end, you're terrified-- had you broken the spell? Was this all a joke after all? But then, you see its eyes dilate to the size of dimes-- then shrink to points as tiny as needles.
"...ye-s" It chirrs.
In the darkness, leaning against the couch with your shoulder, you stare at the simply impossible creature in your care. It seems so innocent-- so... cute, even. Gazing deeply into its eyes, you want nothing more than to take care of it, and see it grow into whatever it becomes. You feel a wave of drowsiness suddenly wash over you. That's right-- it's midnight. You have to go to sleep soon. The credits of the movie have already ended, not that you actually noticed them stopping. But you're afraid that if you go to sleep now, Phleguthgn will vanish somehow, and you'll never figure out the mysteries surrounding its appearance.
Then, as if it’s heard what you thought, it smiles.
You're not sure how something without a distinguishable face can smile. You're also not sure where its mouth is, because the tentacles are obscuring most of your view of the creature’s body. But you can tell that the tiny being is smiling at you, and for a moment, everything seems right with the world. Your previous concerns are wiped away, as if by magic. The feeling of euphoria, though you don't know it's name, washes over your mind. Your mind goes blank, and your head tilts for no reason, forcing your eyes to make contact with the alien that's staring up at you.
This is your new companion. This creature, Phleguthgn, has been bestowed on you by whatever higher power there is, and you are to take care of it with utmost responsibility.
Somewhere deep inside of you, a strangled voice cries out in panic. A moment of fear wells up in you, and you get the sudden instinct to fling the mass of worm-like appendages against the wall. But before you can, you lock eyes with it again. Its smile is still firmly in place, its tentacles pressing, poking, slithering across your skin.
You’re suddenly calm again. And unwittingly, you smile back.
Your name is ROSE LALONDE. You are now SEVEN YEARS OLD. And you have unintentionally made a contract with one of THE NOBLE CIRCLE'S SIX SERAPHIMS.