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Deep down, there was still a part of Mikaela that refused to believe any of this was real. No matter the endless loop of trials and pain and death , there was part of her - far smaller now than it had ever been - that tried to insist this was all one big dream. All she had to do was hold on long enough that she would simply… wake up. Though Mikaela had lost track of how she’d been ‘dreaming’ for. They all had.
That was another issue with her insistence it was a dream; the others around her. Mikaela may have prided herself in her skills as a storyteller, but even her creativity had its limits. Too many people from too many walks of life - most with some form of ‘killer’ seemingly echoing their experiences or building on their stories. That wasn’t to mention all the places she found herself in when the ‘Entity’ stole her away from the safety of the campfire. No matter what she tried to tell herself, Mikaela knew she wasn’t going to just wake up safe and warm in her bed. She didn’t even know if she’d ever go home. Maybe… Maybe this was her eternity now.
As much as she learnt about her fellow survivors, she learnt snippets and fractions about those that hunted them. She knew the tragedies and the monsters. Through Yun-Jin, she learnt of the Trickster’s obsession with the spotlight and how he had used it to slaughter as he pleased; even mixing the cries of victims into his songs. If this wasn’t her reality, Mikaela would insist was it sounded like some absurdist theory or story in a dark forum.
When Jeff told her about the Legion, she’d been… confused. On one hand,they were brutal; they had killed a man, after all. On the other… they were younger than her - still in high school or just out of it. Still kids, really. Kids that killed and slaughtered just as they were told to.
Though, the one that haunted Mikaela’s mind the most was the Artist. Carmina More. Perhaps in another world, under different circumstances, she would have been just like them. A survivor. Not someone puppeteered through tragedy to tragedy so the Entity could shape another killer for its games. The Artist wasn’t an adversary Mikaela faced often, and when she did, the need to survive overwhelmed her little. But it was afterwards in the moments alone that the choked voice and sadness of Carmina lingered in her mind.
Whilst the Entity seemed to hold no rhyme nor reason as to who it took or where it sent them, there was always something… different about facing a killer in the places created to mirror who they had been before. To be faced against the Artist in the Boneyard was more jarring than most. The gravity defying ink and landscapes that seemed to replicate a blank canvas seemed almost cruel to an artist that seemingly been topped of the ways she had once made her art.
Like those around her, Mikaela often had little interest in indulging in her surroundings. Instead, she was far more eager to help power the generators that would help her escape. Yet something… changed this time. As her her hands deftly worked to repair the generator within the tower-like structure - acting on near muscle memory by now - she found her gaze directed elsewhere to the paintings that overwhelmed her surroundings. They… they were usually there, were they? This had to be something new; some new way for the Artist to show off. Because Mikaela could believe she would have missed something so beautiful.
Some of the paintings were clearly from Carmina’s ‘before’ - showing places and people Mikaela doubted the Entity had offered many thoughts towards. Others were more familiar to her - some messy as if the creator had still be adjusting to the phantom-like hands ‘gifted’ to her. But others…Other captured a beauty of the realms and their inhabitants that she hadn’t known existed.
As they so often went, the trial did not go in their favour. With two generators remaining, Mikaela found herself the final survivor. She ran almost blindly as she searched for the Hatch; the last resort that seemed to defy everything the Entity stood for. She also knew she wasn’t the only one looking. The Artist would be just as eager to end the trial as Mikaela was to escape it.
She did find the Hatch, but she also found the Artist blocking her way to it. Both seemed to freeze as their eyes met. Mikaela didn’t know whether to run or accept her so-called date. So instead she did. Either. Instead she spoke. “I saw your paintings.”
The Artist’s head tilted ever so slightly as an almost curious sound escaped her throat. She made no move forward. Mikaela took that as a sign to continue speaking. “They’re beautiful. More skilled than anything I’d ever make.” Anxiety and honesty laced each of her spends. “If…If I’d know about it before, I think it’s the sort of art my apartment would have been covered in.”
After a moment, the Artist stepped aside to give Mikaela a clear path towards the Hatch. Killers had been friendly before but this time was unexpected. As she stepped forward, she was certain this had to be a trap; the Artist would still lash out at her. It wasn’t until the final second that an arm extended towards her - not to attack but to gently brush against her shoulder as she escaped.
Carmina had let her go.
The touch would linger like a brand on her shoulder - not burning but instead filling her with a sense of warmth when she thought of it; when she thought about how beneath the Artist, Carmina Mora still existed.
Things grew… strange after that. The horrors of racing the Artist now turned into an almost game. Mikaela seemed to take less priority - with the Artist missing constantly when she swung for Mikaela during a chase, or moving so slowly towards a hook that the witch often found herself capable of wiggling her way to freedom.
Now she found new paintings by the exit gates, expanding now to include survivors amongst the killers and maps, with Carmina waiting nearby for Mikaela to offer her praise. How anyone could possibly criticise the skill of her brush strokes or the passion put into each one, she didn’t understand.
Though Mikaela did note that there was never a portrait of herself amongst those shown.
Carmina’s requests for her approval seemed to have a rippling effect amongst some - but not all - of the other millers. Sure, some were still eager to show off their brutality but others seemed to offer her some newfound leniency.
When the Huntress threw her hatchets, her aim wandered by nanometres, scarcely causing Mikaela any real harm. The Nurse blinked in chains, seemingly moving too fast to ever notice the witch in her way. The Trickster had even offered her a head start, all but purring that he “ enjoyed watching a tragedy play out ”.
The most brazen in their attitude change was by far Legion. Susie made no attempt to hide her new fondness for her and Yui, upon noting the small flags they both held onto as tokens. Her bias wasn’t even remotely hidden and she never moved to hurt them, far too happy to know others like her existed even within the Entity’s realms. There was never anything romantic - just sapphic solidarity after Carmina had insisted Susie paid more attention to those she hunted. The other Legion members didn’t offer Mikaela the same unconditional lenience, but she did note that the wounds from them never seemed to run as deeply anymore.
But something about what Susie had shared stuck with her. Carmina had said to pay more attention to her. Carmina was looking out for her .
And it seemed she wasn’t the only one they noticed.
Gabe had at least made sure they were alone before pulling her aside. “It appears someone’s found a new path to success.” He began, watching as Mikaela’s eyes grew wide. “Or at least, a new love of art.” Oh .
“I-I don’t know why.” It was a statement that was equal parts the truth and an utter lie. She suspected why but refused to let herself linger on it. “Carmina said or…or communicated something to them and I-“
“Carmina?” Gabriel cut her off. After all,the Killers’ true names were scarcely used amongst survivors; using the monikers to try and dismiss any humanity when faced against them. “…What did you do?”
It wasn’t even as if she had done anything spectacular. “She likes it when I compliment her art.” Mikaela swallowed harshly. “And I like it when she shows it to me.”
Something in Gabe’s posture seemed to shift at that. His expression flickered to one of almost understanding. “You’ve been here longer than me, but I didn’t think good things are something we’ll ever get for long here. Might be worth holding onto this one.”
“I don’t think that’ll be as hard as it should be.”
“Don’t worry about the others, Mikaela.” He made a loose gesture towards the campfire. “This stays between us. Queer solidarity and all that.” She couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her.
“Hey, Gabe? Think you could help me try to find some paper?”
Mikaela may have been skilled at telling stories, but drawing was by no means one of her strong suits. Yet that wasn’t enough to stop her working tiredly by firelight to try and capture at least a fraction of Carmina Mora.
When her path crossed with the Artist’s once more, she almost stopped herself from showing off her creation. Yet, the second it was pressed into her hands, Carmina stared at it as if it were made of pure gold.
“It’s nowhere near as good as yours, but I tried my best.” One of Carmina’s hands came to cradle her face and she coherent stop herself from leaning into it, indulging in a touch she hadn’t realised how much she craved. “There’s a coffee shop back home that does the best lattes, I think I would have liked to take you there.”
Just as the Artist did her best to protect her witch, Mikaela did her best to remind Carmina she was still human.
In another world, perhaps this would have been the start of an epic romance.
But in a world conjured by a cruel Entity? There were no happy endings. Just brief moments that would always begin to fade away faster than they appeared. In a place built on fear, there was no place for love.