Chapter Text
The Mirror That Connects Us
A Cherub Story
~~~Prologue~~~
Blackness. Inky, endless blackness. A canvas of void, and a cradle of lack. The concept of a black hole is an unfathomable one, because it fails to take into account one part of the psyche of any creature: The need for persistence. All living, mortal things have one goal in mind, from the meek mycoplasma, to the spanning, celestial sway of the reproducing cherub.
However, a black hole is the negation of this. None know what is on the other side of a black hole. Of course, there are many theories. One might assume it's just death. Spaghettification, the eradication of existence in a way most painful and most torturous.
Some may think it's a portal. A vehicle to worlds and creation unseen, one marred by the sting of irrelevance, or maybe even blessed with the touch of the greatest Odyssey told through the tongues of someone who refuses to let go.
But our story deals with none of these. Our story begins with an assumption.
The assumption that a black hole is a mirror.
~~~Chapter 1~~~
All good things...
“Roxy, are you about done yet? You know I’m very much not a fan of standing still for so long!”
A young cherub stands in her bedroom. Today, the 10th of April, is not her birthday, so pretense of tradition shall be dropped in favour of another storytelling medium.
Calliope looked out of the window towards the fading sunlight. No matter how many times she saw it, she doubted she’d get used to it. The way the colours darted from their source like paint spilled from an artist’s pot struck her in ways that she never felt possible. You see, just a few short years ago, Calliope had been given a gift, a most precious gift in the form of a small, golden ring. This gift was the gift of life. Most would assume that this was something rightfully hers that was returned to her upon the completion of a variety of convoluted, arduous and, yes, traumatizing tasks, both for the cherub in question and for everyone involved in the rescue operation.
However, this was not how Calliope saw it. Yes, prior to the sororicide suffered at the hands of her brother, one could say that she was ‘living’, but ‘living’ is not the verbiage the cherub would employ. Calliope preferred the term ‘surviving’ for this period of her life. A period of pain, isolation and deep, deep thought. When one is alone, there is little much else to do but listen to one’s own thoughts. For a human, this task of survival would have been gargantuan; impossible, even, and for Calliope the ordeal was much the same. Even though Cherubs are a species that have evolved and adapted to a life of millennials long isolation, Calliope was a very special cherub.
She had discovered a boon so beautiful, a treasure who’s worth was unmatched even to all the weight of gold and power in the universe, at least it was to her.
Calliope had discovered the gift of friendship.
So now here she stood, finding out, with a somewhat sour expression on her face, just what it was that ‘friendship’ meant. At the moment, it seemed like it meant standing still for hours on end while an overexcited matesprit forces you to get your measurements taken, and then also try on a variety of different outfits.
Calliope could handle it though. She expressed misgivings, of course, but none of them held any weight against the crushing, affectionate force that was the smile of one Roxy Lalonde.
The blonde girl stood a little ways away from Calliope, bouncing up and down on her tip-toes, eyes shining and a wide grin plastered on her face.
“Callie, c’mon, you know that it’s not gonna be long now. Kanaya just has to make a few teensy weensy suggestments!”
An eyebrow arch raised at the little portmanteau, and Calliope couldn’t help the quirk of a smile that found itself on her features.
“Suggestments?”
“Suggestments!”
“Suggestments.”
Roxy nodded, whispered “Suggestmentsssss” under her breath, before turning her attention to the troll kneeling just in front of Calliope. Muttering to herself, Kanaya was just finishing off the leg measurements when her gaze flicked up to Calliope and Roxy, down again, and then once more back up when it registered in her head that she was being stared at.
“Oh, sorry, were you talking to me?”
Calliope and Roxy looked to each other with shared looks of amusement, first grinning slightly, then scrunching up their noses (or just mouth, in Calliope’s case), and then bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. Kanaya looked between the two of them in utter bewilderment, but an exasperated smile made its way onto her face regardless.
“You know, this would have been done much faster if you two weren’t so prone to making each other collapse in your respective fits of giggles. No matter, I got what I needed, so I suppose I’ll be off then.”
Between their giggles, Roxy and Calliope managed to pull themselves together, Roxy’s hand finding its way to Kanaya’s shoulder.
“Nooooo, Kanaya you gotta stay! We’re gonna have dinner and it's gonna be so sweet you have
no
idea.”
“As much as I’d like to,” Kanaya began, folding away her equipment into a small side bag slung over one shoulder, “I have prior engagements. Ones which I’m late for, thanks to you two.”
Though her tone was accusatory, Kanaya’s eyes betrayed amusement as she turned towards the door.
“I’m able to see myself out, I’ll say goodnight to you then!”
Roxy and Calliope both called out their goodbyes as they watched Kanaya depart, beginning their own clean-up of their own possessions as the jadeblood disappeared through a transportalizer.
Yes,
Calliope thought,
I have discovered friendship, haven’t I? Even more, in the end.
The young cherub’s eyes fell on Roxy. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had reached far into the void just to grab her hand. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had stayed her friend through thick, thin and everything in between. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had stolen her heart.
Everything seemed utterly perfect. A home, a lover, good food, good laughs, a good life.
It was good, wasn’t it?
Yes,
Calliope decided with certainty,
my life isn’t just ‘good’. It’s bloody brilliant, to be honest.
As Roxy carted an armful of fabrics out of the room and down the corridor, Calliope was left alone. The light from the sun was dimmer now than when she’d looked last. Now it streaked across the floor like a splatter of distinct red blood, spattered against the far wall like the most gruesome of crime scenes. Calliope paused, staring at the light as if she might see something there, someone there. Someone familiar. Someone she had decided she never wanted to see again, hear from again, and if she could help it, even think of again.
The light’s spread ended on a large, ornate mirror that the trio had been using for Calliope’s fitting. It was a full-body mirror that stretched to the floor, with a solid durian wood frame and clean, clear glass. The wood was carved in intricate, serpentine patterns. It had been a gift from one such John Egbert on Calliope’s birthday, well, what had been established as her birthday, when in reality it was merely the day she and Roxy had first met. She’d gone back in her chat logs to find the date, the 11th of the 11th month, when she and Calliope had first spoken. The present had been half a prank, in reality, judging from the carvings on it. It was in that moment Calliope realized she hadn’t told anyone about the reproduction of Cherubs, because as she and John looked away from each other, snickering, she saw that only she and her friend were laughing, whereas everyone else just looked on in mild confusion at best and the apprehension many feel when not in on a corny Egbert prank at worst.
But the mirror brought no humour today. The somber lighting settled on its surface and reflected Calliope’s visage back at her in an eerie glow. Green claws gently found the mirror’s surface, Calliope staring into her own eyes as if she might find something else there.
Someone else, there.
But nothing moved. The room seemed to hold its breath as she stood, staring. No sound reached Calliope’s senses, and eventually, she pulled away. Calliope turned from her reflection with a pained expression, heart fluttering in her hearing like a bird trapped in a cage, desperate to free itself. It was a feeling familiar to her, one of being trapped, but one that she no longer understood. She was out now, free, to do whatever she pleased.
So why did she feel so trapped?
Why do I feel so hollow?
Why do I feel something’s
missing?
Why do I feel-
A thump. Calliope froze. For a moment, all she heard was the steady rhythm of her own heart, slowly picking up in pace as she stood like a statue, hackles raised for danger. Had she imagined it? Surely she must have. There was nowhere such a noise could have come from, right?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The noise resounded again, not loud, but loud enough for Calliope to know that was no apparition of her own mind’s making. It sounded almost as if...Someone were underwater, the sound muffled and distant, pounding with a harsh fist against ice. It sounded as if...Someone were trying to break through. It sounded...It sounded like…
Calliope turned back towards the mirror, eyes fixated on her own reflection. It was normal. Just her, just her plain clothing, just her big, green eyes and little lime green cheek-swirls to match them.
It was just...Calliope.
Stepping back towards the mirror, a relieved smile formed on her face. All of this inner brooding was getting to her.
“Force of habit, right?”
Calliope put her claws to the mirror again, closing her eyes.
“We-...I used to imagine things all the time, alone in that room. Little stories told to entertain myself. This is no different.”
When Calliope opened her eyes, she found that the orbs staring back at her weren’t her own. Calliope saw a deep, intense red.
With a yelp and a start, Calliope leaped backwards, tripping over an untidy mess of cardboard boxes and loose fabrics. Looking back up at the mirror, Calliope spotted an unholy sight in front of her.
He looked as enraged as ever, but he wasn’t the grinning, smug brother who had left her all those years ago. His leg was missing, with the pants leg torn and bloodied beyond recognition, and his skull was fractured and looked as if it might come apart at any moment. Blood ran from his nose, and both of his eyes were darting around as if he wasn’t used to seeing through them. Both were lit with a hot hate, different from the cold ambition of the living brother she’d seen in pictures he’d sent to taunt her. In his jaws, there was one, long fang missing.
He looked
insane.
This new Caliborn stood staring at her for a moment, their eyes locked in a deadly stare down. The other cherub’s fist thumped once more on the other side of the glass, and it was then Calliope noticed it...Cracking. Cold dread wormed its way into Calliope’s gut.
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t happen. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, Calliope watched in abject horror as the glass cracked further and further, and the horrid snarl on Caliborn’s face turned into a grin of pure malice.
Suddenly, the glass broke outwards, a resounding shatter echoing through the air. Time seemed to slow down as Caliborn lunged, claws outstretched. Unable to take no more, Calliope shut her eyes tight, curling herself into the blackness, hoping, praying, that all of this would turn out to be a dreadful dream.