Work Text:
Pen meets paper underneath a dim lamp.
I’d never known a place to be.
People moved in rhythms I couldn’t feel. Responded in ways I couldn’t understand.
The world was so very large. And my voice was so very small.
I didn’t have something to lose, because I’d never gained anything in the first place.
Could I be a person? I didn’t know. I felt like something else.
I just assumed that I would live my whole life that way. Never getting in sync with anybody, never finding my way. Staring at a night devoid of light, unable to even cry myself to sleep.
But then you heard me.
You found me wandering through the world alone. You took my hand and pulled me out of the darkness. You bathed me in light, and spring became warm. The cherry blossoms that fell from the trees were now beautiful. The breeze that ran through my hair was gentle. And you were there at my side.
Your light held me in a way the world never had. Not like the sun, blinding and harsh on my eyes, but gentle, a soft glow that filled up my sky. The moon’s smile couldn’t possibly compare. Before I realized it, some part of me had learned what happiness was.
For the first time, I had something. Someone.
Everyone you gathered was dear to me, of course. Even now some of them remain at my side, and I never want to lose them. Not like I… not like I…
…
They always say the day is short, but the night is no longer. Maybe I’m destined for that darkness, however gentle, however distant. After all, the blue sky reminds me of the tears I shed losing you.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. For failing. For being useless. For not being enough. For not hearing you. If I’d been stronger, if I’d been able to speak my heart, maybe it wouldn’t have turned out like it did.
I once again had nothing. Because I’d lost everything.
I’ve regained so much of it. Another spot in the light. People who walk beside me. Warmth as delicate as the flower petals that fall dead to the earth.
But… But…! It’s not enough!
Not until my voice reaches you again!
Until I can say what I wanted to… until I know you’ve heard me and every last scream from my heart…! I’m going to keep crying!
I still don’t know what it means to be human! I still don’t know the name of this feeling in my chest! I still regret letting go of the moon that had illuminated my small, tight world!
My voice may never reach that light… my throat may grow hoarse and sore, and my eyes may run dry of tears. I may forget what that embrace even felt like in the first place. But I can’t stop. The more my vision waters, the harder it is to see the road ahead.
I’ve always been lost. I’ve never known the right words to say, the right expression to make. Some part of me feels broken, like whoever assembled me didn’t screw my heart in tight. My stomach swirls. My mouth grows dry. I feel every drop of sweat on my skin. The summer hurts my eyes and makes my clothes cling to me. And the flowers in bloom all seem so terribly sad. Good omens no longer smile upon them or me. In this big world, I’ve lost sight of you.
Hey. Are you lost, too?
The curtain rises.
Five dolls lounge about their dollhouse in various states of ease. Amoris strokes Mortis’ hair, staring out the window. “Another Loft Moon is upon us.”
“Indeed,” says Timoris, not sparing it a glance. “It shines like the sun.”
“So we are human once more?” asks Doloris, pacing about.
“If only, if only~!” Amoris hums, hands running down the back of Mortis’ chair. “So eager are you to pretend, hm?”
“Pretending is all we have,” says Mortis, unmoving.
“There’s nothing for me to fake,” says Doloris, averting her eyes. “After all, I’m…”
“A person?” asks Timoris, gaze boring into her. “Your self-awareness truly runs thin.”
“But I feel things… sadness and anger and…” Doloris stares out into the beyond. “Pain. So much pain.”
“Such is the fate of all who are discarded,” says Oblivionis, eyes adrift.
“Oh? You’ve been rather quiet today,” says Amoris, strutting over. “Whyever could that be?”
“Perhaps she remembers,” murmurs Mortis.
“Though she doesn’t fear to forget?” asks Timoris.
“Is it something you desire?” Doloris approaches Oblivionis. “Then perhaps you’re–”
“As forgotten as the rest of you.” Oblivionis casts her aside and paces away. “A discarded heap of painted wood left by the roadside.”
“But even if forgotten, you remember,” says Doloris, holding hand to nonexistent heart. “The one who left you – who were they?”
“She has never said,” Timoris replies, shaking her head.
“The forgotten do not speak of the living,” says Mortis flatly. “For the forgotten are truly dead, more than the stabbed or immolated.”
“Oh, but I’m curious now too,” Amoris lilts, leaning on her elbows. “What manner of callous soul spurned you so?”
Oblivionis halts, looking out into the darkness. “If only she was callous. That poison would be so much simpler to spit out.”
“So you’ve swallowed much of it, then,” says Timoris.
“Aye, and churn it does within my blood, warm and sanguine, setting fire to my veins.” Oblivionis gesticulates to a spirit not there. “Her light, her words, a twinkling star in the night, so effulgent as to make me think I held a heart. But hers was never within my grasp, and mine was a mere phantasm: a facsimile of humanity. The memory of those days singe the edges of my mind.”
“If she was bright, why did she cast you off?” implores Doloris. “Surely she didn’t mean to.”
“If only.” Oblivionis’ voice lowered. “I was stolen away by fate, separated by circumstance… so I bid her farewell, wished her to live well and be merry. But one day I saw her, with companions of flesh and blood, humming a song that was ours. The cutting of my strings was hardly as painful.”
“So you fear not forgetting, but being forgotten,” says Mortis.
“No longer.” Oblivionis holds her arms aloft. “The light of the stars drowns in the company of the Loft Moon. I will behold its gleam until her shine fades into oblivion, all memory come to naught.”
“So you will forget it all,” laments Doloris. “To spare yourself the pain.”
“There is no need for such sorrow. It is what I desired, as you asked.”
“But what if you could reconcile with that light?” asks Timoris. “grasp it in your arms again?”
Oblivionis remembers. The gentle light of that spring day, when she found her reaching out over that railing. The warm moments in her company. Her words, screams that sounded so much like her own. How she would love to be blinded by such brightness once again. But she knows better. The earth chains and binds her. She can no longer hold that star. “Ask not such asinine queries. Come. Let us begin our reverie.”
“Ah, ‘forgetting’ the question, are we?” asks Amoris, leering. “Does such affection curdle your blood?”
Oblivionis has to resist staring at the floor. “Nay. But the knowledge that it will never be mine does.”
And without another word, she casts off the light.