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1.
"I am an insomniac. You are insomniac. I... I think we should..."
He knew where this was going.
"Come in and be at home, this used to be your manor after all."
2.
He had always seen them lulling each other to sleep every night, while he floated in Orpheus' subconsciousness. Lying next to each other, telling how their day went in whispers, until their eyelids become heavy and sleep takes them over. It went on every night, until he beckoned him to the manor with the flute. (Was she able to sleep well in his absence?)
However, this was his first time sharing the bed with her as "Baron DeRoss", and there was certain nervousness. They did not even do anything, just layed in their nightwear, covering under the same quilt. Her warmth next to him was comfortable, her even breath eased him out. But her golden hair and shiny eyes under the moonlight felt like a dream, and now his heart did many loud "thuds" in his chest.
Was this "love"?
He was wrecked with obsession, madness and hatred for so long, he was confused when he felt this. He did not know if this feeling of "love" was his own, or a remnant of the Novelist staying inside him. Now he felt a vast sense of sadness. He was a puppet incapable of love, borrowing it from a dead, past self. And if he showed it to her, would she break down crying for her past companion?
Nothing about this was fair for all three of them. So he decided to lock it away.
3.
"How are your observation reports going, Miss DeRoss?"
"You will laugh at me," she pouted, "You are a psychologist."
"Another point of view about myself is never excessive. You had a special relationship with my other identity, so your view is very much valuable."
If he insisted...
"Of all the sweets, you like cheesecake the most."
"Ugh-huh..."
"You are not picky when it comes to alcohol, but you always drink it on the rocks."
"Agreed."
"You have the charm and confidence that attracts others, but you are an anxious mess when it comes to telephones."
"Telephones ARE scary. I prefer letters."
"You... use empathy like a dagger."
"...An interesting analogy. Was Novelist the influence perhaps?"
Alice huffed, annoyed at his continuous back and forth with her, "You use "empathy" to understand others, but also to lure them into your traps and study them further. But that very same "empathy" burdens you with guilt, so you came up with different methods to comfort your victims. And then as if you are relieved to see them "happy", you put them into the experiment again. Poison them again, burn them again, hurt them again. And then guilt hits you again. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat,..." her voice trailed off, "it's an endless cycle, like that zootrope I used to like..."
Alice went silent, waiting for the other's reaction, but the person besides her was still like a statue. She became less worried if her long-winded rambling lulled him to sleep, because she's now worried if her attempt of psycho-analyzing messed with his breathing function instead--
Alice jolted with the Baron's sudden movement. He turned his body, and their faces were now a few inches apart.
"Tell me, miss DeRoss, is there any way for me to escape this loop?"
4.
She could feel the heat crawling to her ears and neck, her heart thrumming uncontrollably.
God, she missed that face. She missed him so so much being up close like this, looking at her with begging eyes, asking for her guidance.
Her voice stammered and she could not form any words. And as if he noticed her anxiety, "Orpheus" let out a small chuckle and stroked her ear gently.
She missed this touch too...
Alice let out a defeated sigh: "I-I cannot give a solution if I could not assess the situation first."
"Uh-hum," he hummed in agreement, "maybe I should summon a servant to fetch your notes?"
"No, no, I came here to sleep, not to do homework," she buried her face into the pillow for a while, until she continued, "But since I'm already having this train of thoughts, maybe I should conclude today's observation report."
The man brushed her hair, indicating for her to continue.
5.
[You are the manor.
You are the glass casket of a terrarium.
You are a scarred child trying to relearn from scratch.
People say you should treat others like how you want to be treated, but the way you treat yourself is so horrible, I wonder if you're a masochist instead.
You care, albeit clumsily to the point of causing disastrous ends. And that you are cared back, but the scar of the past is so deep, your hands shake and can't grasp it properly. Be it with the hunters, survivors, with me... and most importantly, with "yourself"...
You are a confusing mess, and so is everyone else in this manor. That's why you chose them, didn't you? And that's why they stayed. You are broken reflections of each other.
I thought bringing you out of the manor is the answer, but I'm not sure anymore. It's like trying to erase something so fundamental of you, and I will repeat the old mistakes again. So right now, right here, I am by your side trying to learn about you from the start.
Don't fret, we'll figure out something together, step by step. It has always been like that between the two of us. Outside world be damned! There is just you ("Orpheus") and me ("Alice") and this "home".]
6.
It's what she wanted to say.
But a sense of sleep kept gathering with each of his movements through her hair, her mind became a haze, her words lacked coherence, and she may have repeated an idea a few times already (how he was like a terrarium).
The more she talked, the more she felt embarrassed. She needed her notes after all. His next question made her even more confused if her thoughts were conveyed at all:
"Did you two do anything else to deal with insomnia?... Apart from lying down side by side... talking... sleeping......"
Alice was silent for a few heartbeats before she replied: "If you want, we can--"
She was interrupted by a snore, loud as Zeus' thunder.
She blinked once. Twice. And decided that her mind was too tired to feel any disappointment. She tilted her head, observing the manor owner like she did in the recent days.
"We also kissed like this," she whispered under her breath and kissed his forehead.
"We also... cuddled like this...," Alice carefully wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into the crook of his neck. She listened to him, a loud and rhythmic mix of his snoring and his slow heartbeats. She felt his chest rise and fall, his stiffness in his body that gradually relaxed. He smelled of disinfectants, strange medicine and herbs, and ink, and birds (Did he take a bath at least? So stinky.) Strangely she did not hate it, she could get used to this scent actually.
He felt miles different from the "Novelist", but he gave the same familiar comfort she knew of.
Yes, she could get used to it...
"Good night, Orphy."
7.
"Orpheus" suddenly awoke from a night terror. He hated sleeping for that reason.
But before he could recall what kind of nightmare it was, he noticed Alice's holding on him tightly, sleeping soundly. Now the Nightmare felt distant, he cared only about his favorite reporter.
He rubbed his face to her flaxen hair, and fell asleep again. The thought of Nightmare did not scare him anymore as long as she was in his arms.
"Good night, Alice."
8.
It was a dream in blue. There were endless woods.
There was a familiar boy with a green cap and a green cravat sitting there playing the piccolo. There was a raven and a fledgeling listening to him with great focus.
"It sounds like a Nightingale."
The boy was startled. He turned around to see who said that.
What a relief: it was you. With a toothy grin to welcome you, he continued to play the melody of the Raven and the Nightingale.