Chapter Text
Cleo breathed in the sweet spring air. The smell of wildflowers filling her nose and a warm breeze tugging at her hair.
She existed, it was wonderful, and her name was Cleo. and that was all she knew in the universe.
Cleo had existed for a while. She liked building and sculpting. She liked PvP even though she was bad at it. Even though it scared her a little. Maybe because it scared her a little.
Cleo met Joe and Joe was all energy and enthusiasm, and encouragement. She hated him at first. He challenged her to a duel. And of course, she accepted.
Both of them were terrible at PvP.
Cleo took a deep breath and surveyed her handiwork. A wooden mannequin modeled to look like Joe.
Joe came up beside her and looked at it with her “If I'm not too egotistical in saying, a commendable facsimile of a friendly face. Though the eyes are a bit unnerving,” He said.
The eyes of the mannequin looked back at them, still unpainted and white.
“Well, I’m not finished yet.” Cleo huffed.
“You know what. I’ve been thinking-” Joe started
“Oh no, that can't be good.” Cleo chuckled “Let's hear it.”
“Well, I was thinking. You know how I have been experimenting with magic. I’ve gotten quite good at it and thought it might be possible to animate your mannequins, like a kind of puppet.”
“Now that is creepy, I love it.” Cleo laughed.
Cleo gently ran a hand along the arm of one of her mannequins, the thread of magic running taught and pulling the limb up along with it. Cleo smiled. She had gotten quite good at this. Joe had taught her the basics, but she had quickly surpassed him in this area. Her garden was full of figures that moved and spun and danced like real people. Once she set them on their path, they would follow it until she guided it to do something else. It was a bit macabre, but that was what she liked about it. Cleo watched a fake fisherman cast its rod out onto the lake and then reel it back in while a mimic of a zombie shuffled around under the shade of a tree and a wooden gardener watered the daisies.
Joe sat on top of the garden wall swinging his feet and watching her work. The current statue was a ballerina with a creeper head. One of her more unusual creations. But she was quite proud of it. The trick was getting it to dance correctly. She raised her arm and pulled with the other. The ballerina spun gently and raised its foot. She led it in a dance, and it followed step by step like a strange waltz till it was almost dancing on its own, remembering the magic that had been sewn into its limbs.
Cleo smiled and released it. It spun and stepped.
Then a Hiss. Cleo jumped and looked around for the creeper, knocking into the dancer as it exploded.
Cleo gasped, void filling her lungs and panic setting in. It had been far too long for a slow respawn. It was dark and cold. The sound of running water filled her ears, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, water stretched out into the darkness as far as she could see, only a couple of inches glinting and rippling with the tiniest bit of light that seemed to come from nowhere in particular.
It flowed slowly around her ankles. Cold water soaking into her shoes. She shivered. Then started walking.
Cleo sucked in her breath. Her lungs felt tight, and the air heavy. The water was cold, but there was no breeze. Cleo had long ago taken her shoes off and tied the laces together, hanging them over her shoulder. This felt like some Greek hellscape. Like Sisyphus… or was that Tantalus.
The hellscape never ended. Cleo was pretty sure she was in hell at this point. It had been hours, her limbs felt heavy, she was tempted to stop walking, but if she did that, she knew she would give out and sit down, and she didn’t want to get her pants soaked just yet… it was inevitable she knew. She would have to rest at some point…
Her legs gave out. She collapsed into the water, and she felt a sob well up in her throat as hopelessness started to sink in. This was it, wasn’t it? Just nothing forever. Her own personal hellscape for eternity. The idea felt more real than anything had ever been, and it filled her with dread. She fought back tears. “I’m fine-” She bit out, and the sudden noise echoed out into the nothingness. “Everythings fine.”
She was so tired. Her limbs heavy and trembling, unable to carry herself any further. A chill in her bones and dred welling in her stomach. She swallowed and buried her face behind her knees. She wasn’t crying, she instead to herself, as her shoulders shook, her breathing ragged and uneven. She was fine.
She stopped abruptly. The light was almost blinding after the stark darkness. And a hand reached as if through a rift to grab her. She didn’t think to question it. She grabbed hold, and it pulled her through into the light.
Cleo collapsed into Joe's arms, into the sunlight and the breeze and the warmth. She looked up at him and began sobbing all over again. And Joe held her close, whispering soothing words as they both sat in the grass in the shade of the oak tree, the charred remains of her mannequin garden all around them.