Archive of Our Own

At the very beginning, it was just Soul Catcher and the Lady Nightingale. 

Was it lonely? Soul Catcher would not know. Loneliness implies the longing for another’s company, but if he had never experienced anything of the sort, how would he know to desire it? 

Perhaps, after an eternity and a half of doing naught but following orders, watching the mortals live lives that he would never be able to experience, he began to feel void of purpose. Still, he was satisfied: as long as he had something to do, something to occupy his infinite time, what did it matter? He was blessed in ways that a mere human could not imagine.

So it would continue, time itself becoming null in the face of his personal eternity. Why bother with companionship if it was not necessary? If Lady Nightingale thought he did not need anything of the sort, so he would not think anything of it. Everything that has happened, everything that happens, everything that will happen: always will it be part of her plan and under her control. 

The very thought of disobedience would never strike Soul Catcher once - if he was not made to think that way, then there would be no point in doing so. 

Yet time and time again, capturing the souls from the human world and guiding them to the underworld as was his duty, he began to notice a pattern. Sometimes, here and there, there would be the souls who pleaded not for their lives, but for a chance to say goodbye: a sibling, a parent, a friend, a teacher, a lover. These were terms that he was only aware of in passing, things that Lady Nightingale might mention during her visits to him. Never had he needed to learn what they meant, but after long enough of ignoring those repeated cries, Soul Catcher grew curious. These ‘friends’ that mortals spoke of had withstood the test of time, after all: though languages and cultures developed and evolved over time, death was the unifying link, and in death a human’s heart sings in no language known to man. 

So Soul Catcher turned to Lady Nightingale and asked her the question that he had never bothered to vocalize in the past. 

‘My Lady?’

Her discerning gaze turned on him at once, bird-like mask obscuring all but her eyes. He had asked her the purpose of the mask once, and her answer -

Child, no matter the form taken, the truth is always reflected in the eyes. All else is unnecessary information.

More than once, he wondered what might be seen in his eyes. Would they reflect anything at all? After all, what truths could he know, with only Lady Nightingale present as his source of information?

‘What is it, Soul Catcher?’  

Hesitation only served to hinder his purpose, so Soul Catcher did not hesitate. 

‘What is a friend?’

The Lady showed no obvious reaction other than a ‘hmm’ in response. After a few beats of silence, she offered her answer:

‘A friend is someone like you. They are someone you share experiences with, and whose company you enjoy.’ Her words sounded deliberate, selected with a purpose in mind. That is how it has always been, after all: Lady Nightingale could take any situation and turn it to suit her desires.

Someone like me? Soul Catcher had known that he was not the only servant of the Lady, but never had he met any of his kind in the past. They were all isolated from one another, their duties independent of themselves. What would it be like, to share experiences with someone else - to be part of the performance, rather than the audience? 

‘What do you mean, my Lady?’

There was a glint in Lady Nightingale’s eye. ‘You sound curious, child. What brought this on?’ 

‘The humans often beg to say their farewells to their friends.’

Her tone immediately hardened. ‘You have not permitted any of them to do so, have you?’

‘Of course not, my Lady.’

She relaxed. ‘Good. As a reward for your behaviour, then… how would you like to have one of your own? A friend, that is?’

Soul Catcher blinked. Momentarily, he had entertained the thought, but the concept of wanting as opposed to needing was still far too novel to him to ask for something like this. In the end, Lady Nightingale made the decision for him:

‘I can’t have you distracted for too long, of course. Why not try for… a year, let’s say?’ 

It was a question, certainly, but he was not expected to answer. Somehow, creating a friend for Soul Catcher was something that Lady Nightingale thought would further her plans, and who was he to question it? 

With only the barest hint of reluctance, he nodded. A year will pass by in seconds, all but a fraction of a fraction of the time he’s already lived. Content, Lady Nightingale departed, leaving Soul Catcher all the more confused. Part of him had just assumed that one of his kind would immediately appear alongside him, but things were as they were - 

Until they weren’t, and a distinctly not-human spirit accompanied him on his next trip to the human world. Initially, Soul Catcher had taken it to be a hallucination or some mortal phenomenon, but then it spoke to him.

“Who are you?”

Its cadence of speech was uniquely different from anything Soul Catcher had heard before: rich and full of life, unlike Lady Nightingale’s calm emotionlessness and the humans’ desperate screams.

“Who are you ?”

It wrinkled its nose but replied, so free and full of energy - so different from Soul Catcher. 

“I’m Cheshire Cat, and Lady Nightingale says you’re Soul Catcher.”

“If you already knew, then why did you ask?” 

A grin made its way onto Cheshire’s face, eerily wide yet fitting so well. 

“Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

Soul Catcher was put off by the spirit - Cheshire, it called itself - and its contrast to everything he had known before. Rules and laws were absolute, of course; in this way, there were never any surprises or accidents that would disrupt Lady Nightingale’s plans. Yet Cheshire, despite being part of one of these plans, had this spontaneity that Soul Catcher wasn’t used to. 

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if the lady herself was aware of exactly what she had brought into the world. Surely she didn’t expect him to get along with and befriend… this thing, did she? Cheshire had yet to share any experiences with him. The two of them were different as day and night, and he wasn’t particularly enjoying his company. 

“Well, if you know so much about me, then I don’t see the need to speak at all.” Soul Catcher took a slightly sadistic delight in watching Cheshire sulk, gracefully floating alongside him nonetheless. Hopefully, were he to shun Cheshire enough, the feline would simply stop rambling on: though he’d never dare to reject a reward from the ever-benevolent Lady Nightingale, he did not very much care for this one. 

“Fine, have it your way.” Cheshire Cat sighed dramatically, quieting down. Soul Catcher had no doubt that Lady Nightingale had warned her newest creation to obey him, or at least to be mildly irritating at most. For the sake of his sanity, he was glad. 

And so he traversed through the human world, landscapes that he had already long since memorized passing by as he collected soul after soul. Cheshire remained startlingly well-behaved throughout the entire process, unsurprised but not impressed by the business that Soul Catcher engaged in. He heard the pleas for final goodbyes yet again, but looking at Cheshire, he couldn’t imagine this mischievously smiling feline to be his last thought before the journey into afterlife. 

Well, it was hardly as though he were human anyway. Some things simply required mortality to be understandable. 

Yet throughout the entire journey, Cheshire had never looked so affected as when he heard the crying souls. Where he had been passively bored (and made sure to let Soul Catcher know of it, miming actions but remaining unspeaking), the expression he had made there… 

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Cheshire started, as though he hadn’t expected Soul Catcher to notice his stiffening. “What does that matter to you?” Ah, so maybe he was a little more sensitive than Soul Catcher had realized. 

“Are you not supposed to be my… friend?” He said the word with all the reluctance of a man being held at gunpoint, drawing a slight snicker out of his companion. 

“Friends don’t have to tell each other everything.”

“Hm.”

They went on like this for a while, Soul Catcher asking without asking what the problem was; Cheshire evading the question without being obvious. Eventually, one of them was going to have to cave, but it sure wasn’t Soul Catcher. 

“Don’t you get tired of this?” Cheshire asked, gesturing to their surroundings. “It’s always so miserable and dreary with each soul, and you never get a break. What keeps you going?”

Soul Catcher stopped walking for a moment. It was less the content of the question that piqued his curiosity but rather the tone of voice with which Cheshire spoke: a playful spirit he was, but this sombreness was not something that Soul Catcher had expected. 

“What do you mean?” They had only known one another for so short a time, and yet something about the look in Cheshire’s eye made Soul Catcher intensely uncomfortable. For a spirit supposedly similar to himself, Cheshire expressed emotion in a way so similar to that of a human. Irrational and rebellious - Soul Catcher could never. 

“All their cries,” the feline spirit murmured soberly. “Doesn’t it hurt to know what you’re taking away from them?”

“Taking away?” Soul Catcher echoed, thoroughly intrigued. Lady Nightingale had told him not to think too much about his job, so he paid the details of it little thought. 

For a moment, Cheshire looked like he was going to say something else. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, his eyes clouded over, a haze obscuring their light for a moment before disappearing. “Hm? Was I saying something?”

Soul Catcher frowned. “Something about taking away from human lives.”

“I don’t remember anymore. Well, whatever.” As though he had said nothing at all, Cheshire giggled, returning to his antics. A clumsy excuse, but Soul Catcher didn’t particularly care to ask any more questions. Though he retained none of his earlier seriousness, Cheshire Cat still looked bothered, furrowing his brow as they proceeded onwards. Finally, after Soul Catcher had reached his final batch of humans, he took a seat. Though he had once protested that he could complete his duty without breaks, Lady Nightingale had cut him off:

Child, it is not a matter of what you think you need. In time, you will come to see that a period of time reserved for self-reflection is the most priceless treasure. 

So Soul Catcher reflected upon himself. From that day, however, he had never been able to muster the courage to ask the Lady what exactly he had to reflect upon; as a result, he simply used this spare time to plan out his route for the next journey, or the next ‘day’. 

Today, though, things were different. Cheshire Cat sat alongside him, tail flicking idly. “What is it that you do now?” he asked. It was clear enough after a while that the nuisance beside him wouldn’t leave him to his own devices, so… 

“What do you want to do?” Soul Catcher asked, monotone. Frankly, he was just hoping to occupy Cheshire’s attention for long enough to distract him.

“Why don’t I tell you a story?” Cheshire asked, suddenly grinning wide. “I’m sure you haven’t heard too many of those in your time.”

A story, huh? It certainly wasn’t the worst thing that the prankster cat could suggest, and given that Soul Catcher had a few hours to spare…

“Then tell me.”

Those three words were the spark to ignite it all, the beginning of the end. 

Where Soul Catcher had expected the fairy tales that Lady Nightingale sometimes set her time aside to tell him, Cheshire wove stories of real people, humans who Soul Catcher may well have seen before. Sweeping fantasies, dramatic romances, life and death: he spoke with a curious energy, something that hooked Soul Catcher in and kept him enthralled. Each tale he told differed from the others in character, in setting, in the theme of it all: some ended in premature deaths, others less profound and more lighthearted and trivial. 

The sun set, and Cheshire Cat told him the story of the sun and moon, lovers who could never touch. 

“Cheshire Cat, what is a lover?” Perhaps Soul Catcher had underestimated the spirit after all. Obnoxious though Cheshire may be at times, his knowledge of the world was nonetheless more vast. 

Mischief twinkled in his eye. “Sweet Soul Catcher, so naive. A lover is someone you do something like this with.” Without further elaboration, he pressed his lips to Soul Catcher’s cheek for a short instant. Despite the brevity of it all, Soul Catcher felt the sensation linger after Cheshire had darted away, the wide grin still on his face; heat rose in his cheeks and his heart beat a little faster. 

Gently, he touched his fingertips to the place where Cheshire Cat’s lips had been just moments before. Though he had left no mark, somehow Soul Catcher could still feel that warmth. 

“Is a lover like a friend, then?”

Cheshire mused for a few beats. “From person to person, it varies. Some separate their love for their friends from their love for their lovers. Others see their lovers as the greatest friend of all, and some choose not to take a lover at all. Isn’t that a lovely thought?” 

Family was what humans used to describe those related to themselves by blood. Some looked just like one another, while others looked wildly different. 

Friends were those with whom bonds were forged outside of family, almost like a chosen family of sorts. 

But lovers …? Cheshire’s explanation had only left more questions ringing in Soul Catcher’s mind. Were they people who made one’s heart skip faster? People who engaged in physical contact with one another? No matter how much he wondered, he simply couldn’t find a perfect definition to encompass everything Cheshire had told him. 

And what of the story about the sun and moon? They had watched the sky turn shades of pink, orange and red as Cheshire told him that story, a tragedy still ongoing to this day. The glorious sun and the brilliant moon would never be able to revel in one another’s beauty together, yet somehow they could still love one another. 

What is love, such a strong emotion that it could bind people together in the face of adversity?

Cheshire watched Soul Catcher for a while before chuckling. “Don’t think too hard about it. Emotions are complex things, Soul Catcher. Maybe you’ll understand after a few more stories - but for now, I do believe our time is up.” He spoke the truth: the moment the cool moon rose to replace the heated sun, Soul Catcher would have to rise to collect souls. 

For the first time in his immortal life, he found himself unwilling to act. Cheshire’s stories, the sound of his voice, the way his hands moved as he spoke: they all captivated Soul Catcher’s attention. He wanted nothing more but to sit here forever and listen, but his storyteller remained infuriatingly silent. 

“Come, reaper of souls. Complete your duties and I’ll think about telling you another.” Cheshire Cat spoke freely and tauntingly, enjoying Soul Catcher’s frustration. 

“Sadist,” he sighed, but proceeded onwards with renewed energy. Where the humans were once nameless faces, he now saw them in a new light. Questions flew into his mind, an unending spiral. That little girl: who were her parents? Would they mourn her loss? Were they still in the picture? What about that old man? What life had he lived up to this point? Had he, too, become a teller of tales for his children and grandchildren, or had he not had a family at all? The young lady whose arms were wrapped protectively around another woman of around the same age - how did they pass? Would they still be together in the afterlife?

In the past, he had simply learned to tune out the voices. Now, he listened to them intently, absorbing all the information that he could from each and every soul. Was this what Cheshire Cat had seen the first time around? He understood a little better why he had asked that question now. It was suffocating to see things from his perspective, each soul becoming their own individual human life. 

His solace came from the too-short breaks he could share with Cheshire. Hungrily, he devoured each story that Cheshire spoke into existence, listening intently and asking his many questions. Never had he realized that the human race could be so interesting. 

Eventually, he tentatively began telling his own stories. Not every tale had to be one of truth, after all: billions upon billions of humans had come into existence over time, and surely one of them would be able to identify with his own stories. 

Cheshire had laughed at one in particular, a couple who had been taking care of a cat, each thinking the existence of the little creature was a secret from the other. Soul Catcher couldn’t quite understand the warmth that welled up within him at the sound, but perhaps this was what it meant to be friends with someone, to learn to cherish their laughter. 

One day, Cheshire asked:

“D’you think you understand better now?” Love and friendship and family, enemies and rivals and strangers. Relationships were just as strange as they were messy, somehow still creating a thing of beauty in that chaos. 

“I suppose,” Soul Catcher responded carefully. Surely he would never be able to understand the minute details of each relationship, but he certainly knew more than he ever had before Cheshire came along. 

“In that case…” Cheshire dangled upside down, eyeing him curiously. “What would you call our relationship?” 

Of course, no matter how much time passed, Cheshire Cat would still find ways to surprise him. 

“Are we not friends?”

Cheshire snorted. “But of course.” Still, that answer didn’t seem to satisfy him, though he did not push further. What had he wanted to hear? They were not adversaries, nor were they related - or perhaps they were? The Lady had created them both, but she was less a mother and more a guardian.

“Would you like me to call you my brother…?” As he said it, Soul Catcher knew that that too was the wrong answer. Cheshire shook his head, clearly frustrated but unwilling to express it. The gloominess reflected in his face quickly departed, though, replaced with a too-wide smile. He had never considered it before, but how often was his beloved cat forcing his grins?

Though the subject had soon changed afterwards, the moment lingered in Soul Catcher’s mind. The topic of their relationship was not brought up again, yet he would still stop to think about it on occasion. 

Another time, after a particularly difficult day, Soul Catcher had rested on the ground under the shade of a tree. To his surprise, Cheshire had adjusted his position, allowing him to rest his head in Cheshire’s lap. Looking at him in suspicion, he only grew more skeptical as the feline had simply laughed. 

“Don’t look so distrustful of your dear friend, Soul Catcher. This is a thing the humans do often, a display of affection. Allow yourself to rest under the watchful eye of one who cares for you.” 

Sleep was not something that either of them needed, though Cheshire had admitted to enjoying slipping into unconsciousness in the past. After a while of push-and-pull, he had managed to sway Soul Catcher into partaking in it as well. Truly, it had felt nice to lie next to his friend, yet in this particular moment, Cheshire’s hands running through his hair idly - he felt a similar feeling as he had that first day, when Cheshire had given him what he now knew to be called a kiss. 

How peculiar that, in a position of comfort intended to bring one to sleep, Soul Catcher felt more awake than ever. 

And in the very moment that Soul Catcher was about to comment on it, Cheshire spoke into the comfortable silence they had drifted into:

“Your eyes are pretty.” 

It was a small comment, barely even worth being called a compliment - yet it stunned Soul Catcher into silence, staring up. Cheshire smiled, but it was softer than his usual smiles: it was gentle, and, if Soul Catcher didn’t know better, he would almost call it genuine. 

Of course no one had ever told him such a thing before. He rarely ever appeared in his corporeal form in front of the souls he reaped, preferring to keep things professional and anonymous, while Lady Nightingale would not be the kind of person to praise her own artwork. Other than the Lady, Cheshire Cat was the first to ever truly see him. 

It felt unspeakably pleasant to hear those words from Cheshire’s mouth for whatever reason. Soul Catcher revered the Lady, but Cheshire was something so much closer to his heart - something he treasured, something he…

Oh.

So it was at that moment that Soul Catcher, staring Cheshire in the eye, realized what it meant to be in love.  

His cat, his friend, his teller of stories, and his love looked right back at him. 

What words was he looking for? In the quiet of the moment, he lost the nerve to note his realization aloud. For the first time, he kept a secret to himself.

“Your eyes are pretty too.”

It would be enough for them at the time. Later, some other time, he could say the words that he had swallowed. 

From then on, things changed. Cheshire Cat had a tendency to cling, but now he rarely ever let go of Soul Catcher - arms looped together even as he tried to guide a lost soul to its place, fingers absently toying with his hair in their free time. More than once, Soul Catcher wondered if Cheshire would give him another kiss, and if its invisible imprint would remain like the last. Still, though the touches increased, never did it cross that line. Cheshire was unsure if he was disappointed or glad at that, knowing that it had been a long time since he had spoken to Lady Nightingale about matters concerning the friend she had given him. 

He felt a jab of guilt at that, a feeling of wrongness: up until this point, Lady Nightingale had been his one and only reason to exist in the first place. Indeed, she had been his creator from the start, so his loyalty to her was second nature to him - but now, Cheshire was here, someone to love rather than worship. 

It didn’t matter, did it? It wasn’t as though he was lying to the Lady or anything of the sort. He wasn’t exactly keeping information from her either: he had told him that Cheshire was teaching him new things, and she had been content to know that much. So too did he teach him the feeling of love - all of this he had either told Lady Nightingale or else implied. 

One night, he woke to the sight of Cheshire. While this on its own was not particularly surprising, the expression on his face was: rarely ever did the spirit make such morose faces, and Soul Catcher could not help but want to know what was wrong. 

“Cheshire? Are you alright?”

He did not reply, instead continuing to stare at Soul Catcher as though he were committing his face to memory. They were supposed to have left for their daily journey down at this point, but making Cheshire feel better was a thousand times more important than the duty that he had completed without question for eons in the past. 

“Cheshire?” he asked again, beginning to worry. The cat did not usually fall into quiet moods, always talking about something or other. Over the many months they had been acquainted with one another for, Soul Catcher had learned to find comfort in the perpetual conversation he would be forced into - yet today, things were different. Today, Cheshire seemed entirely unwilling to speak altogether. 

Finally, Cheshire Cat stood, offering a hand. Instead of guiding Soul Catcher down to the human realm like he usually would, however, he whispered two words:

“Let’s dance.” 

It was always frustrating when Cheshire knew something Soul Catcher didn’t, frequently dangling it over him and making him ask repeatedly before giving the answer. This, however, went beyond those teasing games: they had gone over so many things, but never had Cheshire taught him how to dance. Nonetheless, Soul Catcher took his hand, wholeheartedly trusting him.

Together, they swayed under the waning moon, a familiarly unfamiliar tune hummed under Cheshire’s breath. Soul Catcher was never the graceful one of the pair, but leaning into Cheshire, he felt at peace. 

Who knows how many souls there were, suspended between life and death for that day? Soul Catcher couldn’t care less. He would collect them eventually, but Cheshire’s mood swings were so volatile that he always tried to address them immediately before the opening disappeared. 

He looked to the sky and remembered that story, the sun and moon never able to touch. 

And then. 

“I’ll miss you.”

This would be the first and last time Soul Catcher ever saw Cheshire cry. No matter what he said, the questions he asked, the comfort he tried to offer, Cheshire’s tears flowed onward. 

Yes, he really did feel things the way a human did, bountiful emotions overflowing. 

And maybe he had infected Soul Catcher after all the time they had spent together. Despite not knowing anything about what Cheshire meant, tears began spilling from his eyes too, even as they continued to dance. 

“Stupid cat, what are you talking about?” Though Soul Catcher wouldn’t know at the time, the feeling that resonated through him was fear - the first time he had ever had something to lose. 

He isn’t leaving me, is he? Did I do something wrong? Did the Lady command him to leave? 

“So you’ve forgotten,” he said between stifled gasps. “Maybe that’s for the better.” Cheshire dipped Soul Catcher down, the look in his eye more intense than ever.   

“Forgotten what?” Lord, was he frustrating when he got like this. No matter how Soul Catcher pleaded, he would only reveal information when he felt like it. 

Cheshire shook his head. “Just…” He shoved one hand in his hair, the other still steadily guiding Soul Catcher through their dance. Though it was difficult to tell, it appeared that Cheshire muttered something under his breath sounding suspiciously like a ‘ to hell with it ’. 

Of course, that would not be what Soul Catcher focused on, given that Cheshire Cat proceeded to press a kiss to his lips. This time, it was neither quick nor teasing: not the peck that the last one was, but rather a reckless and spirited kiss. Cheshire held onto him tightly with a single-minded desperation, refusing to split for breath. Less like the cute little romances that they created together, this felt a lot more like the mature and very in-depth stories that Cheshire would tell for the sake of making fun of Soul Catcher’s flustered reaction. 

But of all the stories Cheshire told, this would be the first to end like this. 

This was it, the moment Soul Catcher would have spoken his three secret words. They were on the tip of his tongue, ready to come out - having been ready for a long time. The moon shone brightly above them, a beacon of light illuminating Cheshire’s face. 

( Sun and moon, never able to be together.

‘What does it mean to be in love?’ 

‘To cherish a person so wholeheartedly as to consider them part of yourself.’ )

Yet as he longed to utter those words, finally ready to say them, Cheshire pressed a finger to his lips, replacing his own. They had both known all along, hadn’t they? Still, it frustrated Soul Catcher to no end that he still couldn’t tell Cheshire just how much he adored him. 

“I’ll miss you,” Cheshire repeated, a wistful smile on his face. Soul Catcher had seen him wear many faces before, but this one was a first. It was a fleeting expression, there for a few seconds then gone again. One more kiss, just as longing and tragic as the last, then:

“Sweet Soul Catcher, it’s time to say goodbye.”    

But it was only so long after the warmth pressed next to him disappeared that Soul Catcher was struck by a memory, such a short time ago yet feeling like eternities. 

How strange that he would have forgotten up to this point, given that the words echoed louder than ever in his mind now:

‘One year, child.’ Up until this point, he had treated each one of Lady Nightingale’s words as gospel, so how did he manage to forget the most important ones? The Lady was the one to remind him that everything had its price, and so the friend she had crafted for him would as well. 

And Lady Nightingale never lied. 

One moment, blissfully in love; the next, standing in the embrace of a phantom. 

Soul Catcher did not make a habit of crying, but now that the one person he had wanted to be strong for was gone? Well, it wasn’t as though anyone else would notice. The souls waiting to depart for the underworld could wait an eternity longer. At least they would have a chance at redemption, at getting what they had lost back. Soul Catcher, on the other hand, screamed his fury at everything surrounding him, a terrible and broken sound. No matter what he did, what difference would it make? He was no god, and Cheshire was no human. He would only be immortal for as long as Lady Nightingale commanded it, and, well… 

At some point, the Lady had appeared next to him. It angered him that she showed none of the uncontrollable despair that he felt: everything to happen was always part of her plan, after all. So what was this? Why did she teach him how to love, just to take it all away from him? 

‘Do you know what lesson there is to be gained from this?’ As though Cheshire’s existence was just another lesson to be taught to him. As though he was nothing but a learning experience. 

Still, he gritted his teeth. Maybe in another thousand years, he would finally appreciate this year’s lesson. ‘Please enlighten me, my Lady.’

Her lips curled into a twisted, twisted smile. This was not Cheshire’s warmth: no, her smile had none of his genuinity and all of its malice. 

‘You see, my child?’ She spoke without remorse - indeed, without even once bringing up Cheshire’s name. ‘A friend will do nothing but leave you. Do you not understand? I created him to hold all the stories that would draw you in. He was created of fragments of a human soul, all of their flaws and imperfections present.’

‘This is what happens when you entrust your heart to another, Soul Catcher. Humankind will only hurt you.’

So that was it. That was the moral.

All this time, every day that he had treasured alongside the first friend he had ever had - all just Lady Nightingale’s message to him not to betray her. 

Neither did Soul Catcher often make a habit of vulgarity, but in this case he felt it appropriate. 

‘Fuck you.’

Though he couldn’t see her face through the mask, he hoped that she was more than a little surprised. He hoped it stung to have something go wrong for once, he hoped she flinched and stopped to think about everything she had done to him. 

Ironic that the very scheme she had plotted to keep him closer to her would be the only reason he despised her so, in that very instant. 

Then one thing she said registered to him:

created of fragments of a human soul

and he realized what he would have to do to get his Cheshire Cat back. 

Not stopping to look back once, he took his leap to the human world, the first time he had done so alone in exactly one year. Maybe Lady Nightingale would come looking for him, but he would not be returning for a long, long time. 

There was still a chance that the pieces that created Cheshire were still scattered out there in the human world, no? That the human boy who inspired his creation still lived on?

Luckily, Soul Catcher was hardly short on time. 

I’ll find you again someday, Cheshire. And when I do, I’ll tell you all the stories that I’ve collected by myself. 

(And when I do, I’ll finally tell you how much I–)