Chapter Text
Winter was fast approaching- carrying a storm on its wings, Donella knew that to be the case as an icy chill blew through the marketplace. She spent the rest of the day making sure they had enough firewood, patching the little crack in the roof, resealing the doorway to trap out the cold, and hanging up all of Hugo’s winter clothing. That boy loved to play in the snow, she never understood why but it didn’t particularly matter as long as he was warm.
The passage of time was apparent as the days grew shorter. She had to light candles earlier as she worked into the night. Birds flew overhead to warmer days. Yes, the seasons were still changing as they did with each coming year, the clock hands still spun on in their endless journey around its circumference, and she was still dead. And Donella couldn’t help but feel with each tick and tock that she was leaving her behind again.
Hugo always knew there were some bad days with his mentor. They didn’t talk about it, was more of a mutual understanding sort of deal. Strange dates every year where she would disappear the entire time and come home teary-eyed, probably an anniversary. She never celebrated her birthday and seemed almost offended if anyone did. Then there were the moving targets, the transitions from fall to winter and winter to spring, spring to summer, and the cycle repeated. Even as a kid he started to realize she had something with time, and he understood what Donella did with anything too personal- she pretended it didn’t exist.
But she celebrated every milestone with him, in her own way, made him birthday presents and bought him cakes and marked how tall he was getting on the wood of the doorframe. This year, when he turned thirteen, she made the expected teenager joke before presenting him with a new pair of orange-tinted goggles- figured he was old enough to advance in his studies. Growing older was something to be celebrated for him and chastised for her.
So he kept quiet by her side, helped her unpack all of his clothes and her jacket- went with her to the market to buy more candles, and listen to her haggle over prices. He sat with her until the fire burnt out and all that remained were the smoldering ashes of memories long forgotten in the smoke. She’d clean up her workstation perfectly no matter how late it was and then they’d get ready for bed together. Even since he started staying near her, she didn’t pull nearly as many all-nighters. Had to set an example.
As he laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling he turned his head to the side at the dull sound of fabric next to him. Donella fluffed out a heavier blanket before draping it on top of him, the extra weight pressing down.
“Stay warm tonight, kid. A storm’s coming. If you need another, let me know.”
“Do you have an extra one, Don?” He asked as he sat up, watching the way she tucked her thumbs into her pockets with a small shrug.
“Me and my icy personality? I get used to the cold.” From her tone, dry and monotonous, it was pretty hard to tell when she was joking around. But she was and Hugo laughed half-heartedly as she reached out and ruffled his hair, trying to bring some life back into her eyes. She hated how harrowed she looked that day, unable to escape the past as it nipped at her heels like a windchill. She buried herself in work so he wouldn’t have to see it.
“Just take care of yourself, like you’ve taught me to.” He let the woman gently guide him back down to his pillow, her cool fingers pushing his hair from his eyes. He let them close and nodded, rolling over onto his side and listening as she blew out the candle and carefully stepped away from his bedside.
“Good night, Kid.”
“Good night, Don.”
She shut the door softly behind her, allowing her hand to linger along the wood for a few fleeting moments. Pulling it back to her chest, Donella made her way down the hall, around the squeaky floorboard, and to her room. She kept a singular flame lit to save the others, sitting down by her desk and mirror to slowly take down her hair. The woman did it methodically, raking her fingers through the strands as she went and keeping the elastics lined up nearly on the desk one by one. Her eyes stayed on the woodgrain, never on the reflection. Her stomach twisted at the thought of them, disgusting portions of raised skin like cracks or claw marks across her cheek- she couldn’t stand to look at herself though sometimes she did as punishment.
Getting up before she could start pulling at her fingers as a backwards method of self-regulation, she had laid out her pajamas that morning as always, neatly folded on top of her dresser. She pulled her shirt over her head, undressing quickly and getting herself situated in the looser clothing. It was soft, the air between the cloth and her skin felt cold and empty as she made her way over to her bed. Pausing, she glanced at her light, a candle in its holder, and then peeked her head out into the dark and empty hallway that led to the lab. Anxiety twisted in her stomach, she knew it to be the irrational kind. Still though, the image of a woman in a blue dress wandering the streets filled her mind, and she pictured how she was lost, unable to find her way back in the darkness or perhaps assuming that no one was home due to it and leaving once again.
Donella grumbled to herself as she opened her box of candles, picking through them. She saved all the ones that weren’t stumps, knowing that she couldn’t afford to just throw them away willy-nilly. How ironic her next actions would be. Selecting one about medium length, it still had a few hours left, she brought it with her into the lab using the candle holder to guide her path. Stopping by the window, she dipped the unlit wick into the flame, waiting for it to ignite before placing the light securely on the sill in its designated safe place- as to not be a hazard.
She made her way back to the room, already feeling sheepish and wasteful about her decision though her anxieties did ease. Sitting down at the edge of her bed, she blew out the candle quickly, turned over under the covers, and exhaled with this dull throbbing pain in her chest. The loneliness held her close, squeezed her arms to her body- and threatened to take her heart with it in her absence.
Sleep didn’t come easy, it never did but especially on nights like this. Donella curled up on her side and clutched the blankets in her hand. She could hear the wind whistling outside, loud- accusatory- as if speaking to her, yelling at her, missing her perhaps as much as she did. “I’m sorry, Ulla,” The words were a confession, the name agony along her tongue. “I’m so sorry, please come back.”
She opened her eyes to find herself under that familiar oak tree in the middle of a grassy field. Figured her dreams would take her here given how much Ulla was on her mind. These recurring visions usually consisted of her laughter or her voice, maybe the image of her from the corner of her eye- they all ended the same. She’d run around frantically searching for her, reaching out but never grabbing onto anything. And she’d yell and scream and beg for her to appear only to get nothing and be struck with the realization that it was her fault. If she wanted her so badly then maybe she shouldn’t have left her. Despite the guilt, the regret, the anger- a part of her excitedly awaited these dreams. Because, if only for a moment, she could hear her again, see her again- refresh her memory for fear of losing her to the depths of her mind.
And so Donella waited, fearfully, expectantly, wistfully. A breeze blew by, carrying a few leaves to circle around her and lift her hair. She turned with them, letting go- until she had been spun around a few times. The gust moved to the side, a couple yards away, curling on itself and picking up more debris until a figure started to emerge. Donella squinted at the form- this was not how things usually went.
In a burst of energy, fiery red hair and deep blue dress with that ripped apron appeared, flung to the ground. Ulla gasped quietly, staring at her own palms and marveling at them as the tingles of magic dissipated. She could feel the grass- actually sense the blades against her skin. They were rough and sharp and a little cutting but it seemed so real, like she had a body again. Lifting her head slowly, blue eyes met green, bewilderment and something oddly familiar washing over the both of them.
She was robbed of the air in her lungs, taking a small step back. Never had she ever been able to see Ulla so clearly in her dreams. There had always been something fuzzy about her image, something unclear and far away that left her longing for more like an aftertaste. But this, it was as if she were awake, as if they were together- as if somehow she had been right. Donella always outwardly assumed Ulla had died despite the part of her, the tiny piece she struggled to muffle, that knew she was alive. She knew because, and it sounded stupid, if Ulla was really gone a piece of her would have died with her. Those freckles, those eyes, her bottom lip quivered with how much she wanted to believe it to be true. But her subconscious was a tricky thing, it loved to lull her around- the faint brush of lips, the smell of strawberries and sunlight, the gentlest of touches, it was always too good to be.
“Is it really you?” Donella whispered, pulling away and holding her wrist to her chest. Her gaze took the woman in, just like her memories. Some days she got so afraid of forgetting that she’d take out the old journals, the old images, and pour over them- trying to memorize every freckle as she had done when they were younger and she could brush her hand over flesh and bone. But then she’d grow fearful that she’d forget who she was, not just what she looked like. What if one day Ulla’s laugh was just another’s in the crowd, the glint in her eyes that always sparked a fire burned out, and how she held herself- how she commanded the room was nothing more than a hazy recollection? What if she forgot and killed her a second time?
Her mouth ran dry as she smoothed down the fabric of her skirt- marveling at how it didn’t feel ghostly and flickering in and out of existence. She let her eyes linger on Donella, almost tearing up at her. She was so familiar yet different- maybe they both were. And she felt this dull ache in her chest, longing want. It took everything in her to keep from running to her, holding her close- actually seeing if she could touch her.
Dreaming as a spirit was tricky, the blur of reality and fiction extended into consciousness for a few moments. It was hard to ground yourself without a body. Sometimes she’d have the bliss of ignorance and expect to see Donella around the corner of bookshelves or reading to her over the tops of a scroll. And then when she realized it was a trick, it felt like losing her all over again. She couldn’t keep feeling like this but she did. Her words shook when she spoke, as if a joke was trying to crack but failed to do so. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I-” This was not how her dream usually went. Donella blinked and ran her hand over the side of her arm. “Aren’t you in the Library? How are you here?” Her voice died out at the end.
“Magic,” A weak little smile at the other’s instant nose wrinkle of annoyance and eyeroll. There was even that scoff she loved to tease. The day she first discovered the spell Ulla poured herself over it for- well she didn’t really know for how long. Time was tricky like that in the Library, hard to figure out. However, she did notice changes in herself as she appeared in this dream, her hair was a bit more faded, her skin felt less taut- what a privilege it would have been to age. Something she always feared when she was younger and much more naive. What a joy it would have been to grow old with her.
Donella finished her little show of disapproval with a soft grin, it felt so right to kid with her despite the years between them. This still felt comforting. “You know I find that explanation weak.”
“Well, it’s true!” She replied back.
“Truly infuriating,” That got a laugh out of the shorter, something akin to the sound of wind chimes. Donella allowed herself to soften at this, her shoulder relaxing. Ulla always did this to her, reminded her that maybe the world wasn’t all dark and scary.
A step towards her before she held herself back, staring at her inquisitively before Donella nodded. Only then did she continue, stopping a few feet away. “I found a spell that would let me manipulate dreams for a little bit. Enough for me to project myself or- not exactly myself it’s a mixture of me and how you perceive me- to you. It’s- it’s hard to explain!”
She nodded knowingly, looking her up and down and starting to see the slight differences from their youth. How interesting. “You uh- you look good.”
“So do you.” She replied quickly before circling back to the original question. They had always been able to talk like this, darting back and forth between topics in a manner that was confusing to anyone but themselves. “I have you to thank for that, I-” Ulla wrung her hands together tightly, fidgeting with the waistband of her apron. “I’m surprised you can still think about me like this- much less talk to me.”
“I could say the same about you,” She took in a sharp breath, “Aren’t you angry with me? After- After what I did to you?”
“I was for years,” A small shrug, she said the word with a question mark and glanced up at Donella for confirmation. It had been years. The realization struck her like a blow. “A long long time. But I wouldn’t have learned this spell to see you again if I hated you.”
“How can you ever forgive me?” Her voice cracked in this innocent desperate manner.
“I just- I just do! I don’t know, Donnie, I just-” She paused at how Donella winced at the nickname and that felt like a shot through the heart. The words shook as she spoke. Memories of when she’d become consumed in rage danced in her brain, what she’d turn into- how the magic would wrap around her and choke her alive. “I tried being angry, but it always turns to regret. I’m so sorry, Donella. How can you ever forgive me?”
Her eyes watered a bit as she stared at her friend’s face, the two scars that dragged across her cheek. Ulla’s fingers burned, she could still feel the magic coursing through them and the remnants of that fight pooled in her stomach as acid- consuming her from the inside out.
“I don’t know, I just do.” She whispered back, lifting a hand to scratch at her cheek before Ulla’s gaze made her think twice. “I just do. Despite it being harder this way.” Hard to hate her, hard to live without her- she made her choice.
A silence between them, understanding wove around and pulled the two closer. Donella’s hand twitched like she wanted to reach out to touch her, she refrained for fear that if she did it would cause her to fade away like grains of sand through her fingers.
“Can you forgive yourself?” Ulla eventually muttered, standing beside her and looking out at the dream’s landscape. The grass was so pretty, the sky so blue- and she realized how much she missed seeing the open world, feeling the sun against her skin. She missed this and she missed her and she missed being alive. But the Library had taught her many things, one of which being that longing was often a fruitless plea that fell on deaf ears.
“That- that doesn’t matter.” She brushed it off quickly and straightened her spine, “Can you?”
“I don’t have to,” Her tone was rather light, expertly catching Donella’s deflection and throwing it back to her, “My life is over.” The words pained her to say, maybe because she never truly said them out loud before and still couldn’t process it to be real. She wanted to believe that one day she’d be free, that she’d get a chance to make up for all of her many mistakes. “You, on the other hand, have to find a way. Or else yours ends too.”
“How?” Turning back to her, her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tightened her jaw. The action made the stiff skin on her cheek tug, “How can I ever forgive myself?!” She pleaded for an answer, some instructions- a way to learn. “How can I when every single day is a reminder of what I did to you? Of what we lost?!” Of what I took from you. In an instant a flame could be extinguished by the breeze, and the light flickered.
Ulla opened her mouth, took in a breath, and nothing escaped. She shrugged sadly- a part of her had hoped that Donella figured it out already. Something about how time healed wounds, she was beginning to realize that instead it simply ate its children in the end. She took her fate as an eternal punishment, deserved by someone like her. The Library chained her to its confines but it would be a real shame if it trapped her Donella as well. Maybe that’s why she was here, came here- to be defiant against the magic that slowly chipped away at her psyche as if to say you can’t take her too. She wracked her brain, trying to pull some wisdom or saying or- “What about what we do have?”
“What does that mean?”
“What we have! What we-” Excitedly, the woman waved her hands around, streaks of dazzling blue light followed her motions and the edges of gemstones started to crystalize around her fingers. The world around them melted away in a blur.