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It was about 24 hours since Dandy tore down the Christmas decorations. All that was left now was an afterthought and the faint scent of sugar cookies from Ginger, still plated on the kitchen counter. Ginger was never exquisite with her baking, with the results always coming out visually appealing but lacking taste wise. Rudie often fell sick from being her tester, hurling over a garbage can as he tried to shove the cookie down. It was burnt and crisp on the edges, which would usually be a good thing. In this case, though, it was not.
Ginger’s cookies tasted like the remnants of what was on an ash tray. It makes sense that nobody would want to devour her pastries despite Bobette’s constant insistence and encouragement. From how the ornament giggled and swayed, it was almost as if Ginger’s cookies were the best thing in Gardenview. Maybe she's gotten used to the taste of burnt and stale dough, the frosting smudged and over processed by chemicals that honestly made it worse.
Now, they were the only reminder. Dyle was zoning out, his fingertips tapping on the counter as his chain swayed behind him. His eyes slowly moved to notice the plate, and his eyelids shifted down. Christmas was never his favorite. Getting into itchy sweaters and drinking piping hot cocoa wasn't on his usual to-do list. He didn't like anything inordinate. Christmas was huge. It was overconsumed. It made Dyle tick a little faster out of spite.
What made the conductor raise an eyebrow was the fact that the Christmas star herself wasn't present for most of the season. On Christmas day, Bobette was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she was simply just erased from the plain of existence, her presence lost from the floors. Dyle wasn't trying to necessarily eavesdrop, but he did raise an eyebrow at the mention of peculiar loud cacophony being reported by some toons as they passed by.
Another tick passed by, and Dyle started to get restless. He wasn't exactly the type to be patient. After all, the sound of a machine blaring sent him barreling sometimes. Good memories to him, a blur to others.
Realizing he was in the kitchen, Dyle sheepishly mumbled to himself. He had forgotten his purpose of being here. Focusing on the disappearance of a fellow main was making him feel a slur of emotions. An enigma followed by another lured him deeper, but he didn't have time for games. Or did he? Dyle didn't care about Bobette's disappearance, even when the others came crying to him.
The way the holiday toon's eyes widened in fear, pleading Dyle to find her. He kept rambling on and on again, and it honestly pissed Dyle off to listen. Flicking the reindeer away, he shot a glare at Ginger to shut her up as well. Coal passed by later, a huff exiting her mouth.
When the silhouettes passed by, Dyle remembered the way Dandy swayed his legs, his stubby hands gripping the edge of the counter. He followed his line of sight, noticing a hint of confusion but also a fine amount of anger bubbling deep within. Dyle rolled his eyes, playing it off as if it was just another minor inconvenience. Dandy, however, gave Dyle a tight, terrifyingly bittersweet smile.
Oh, well. Dandy doesn't have much power towards Dyle anyways, does he? He's so short and so defiant. He's easy to please and incredibly predictable. As soon as you shove tapes in his palms, that anger simmers, and joy lights up in his eyes. Any uncomfortable emotions he was presenting earlier simply ceased, and it'd work every time. Dyle would know.
Round, beautiful ceramics surrounded Dyle now, lined up and ready to be polished and washed. Ginger’s cookies were still in front of him, and Dyle moved the plate over the trash can. Dumping the stacked cookies, he couldn't help but smile. He could get used to this feeling. With the plate still in his grasp, Dyle started to transport it to the sink, adding it to the pile of dishes that desperately needed to be done. Cosmo and Sprout had been teaching the baker new recipes, refining her skills that she seemed to lose every year.
“What're you doing?”
Suddenly, Dyle snapped in shock, his grip on the plate loosening as he whipped his head around to see who was in the door. Low and behold was Cosmo, his hands over his chest. Rooted deep within was a sense of dread. He'd been watching this entire time, observing silently how Dyle seemingly threw away his cousin's hard work. Nights and nights of practice reduced to nothing. Teeth grinding against each other, Cosmo clenched his fists.
A head-splitting crash filled the room, and Cosmo gasped. The pieces were scattered across the floor, a disarray of what the plate had been. Every single piece had parts of a design on it, and Cosmo felt his knees buckle. Acting on instinct, the pastry started to scoop everything up into his hands carefully. Distressing, bitter, and harsh, it was the feeling of woe. Ginger loved that plate more than anything. Although clay and ceramics weren't Brusha's cup of tea, she budged under Cosmo's begging. Bobette wrapped it up, handing it over to Ginger on Christmas day.
That was a long time ago now. When Gardenview was open and the handlers were around. Cosmo took a shuddering exhale, facing the garbage can. Ginger’s cookies were now crumbled and forgotten, an afterthought of her very existence. Cosmo didn't know why cookies were making him so frustrated, but he wasn't going to tolerate it.
“What're you doing?” Cosmo repeated, expecting an answer. It wasn't a question. It was a demand.
Dyle recoiled in disgust at the toon's tone. He was in no place to talk to him like that.
“Nothing of your concern.” Dyle shot back, whipping around. Cosmo nearly got smacked across the face, and he scoffed. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Like what? Finding Bobette?” Cosmo muttered, pursing his lips as soon as he said it. Bobette had turned into a more touchy topic after her disappearance.
“I'm sure she just went into isolation early. Those holiday toons are impossible to predict.” Dyle snapped, narrowing her eyes.
“And whose fault is that?” Cosmo sputtered, pausing as he put his hands on his mouth. God, he usually never had problems with his anger. What was with him? Something about Ginger and her remoteness made him feel this sense of disconnect. Every year, they were separated, and Ginger was the only family he had. The pastry knew he should be grateful, but every moment he met her gaze, all he could see was her confusion.
She was forgetting, and soon enough, Cosmo knew he'd just be a hazy memory.
“We are ending this now.” Dyle commanded, walking away with no further notice. Cosmo fell to his knees, the harsh cold floor uninviting. The air is brittle, and it's hard to breathe.
Tears ruthlessly rolled down his pretty sprinkled cheeks. Powered with the finest sugars, watery syrup forming at his chin.
Though, as Dyle walked down the dim halls of Gardenview, he swore he could see something akin to a basket swooping by his vision. Ugh, maybe it is time to rest. He's seeing things. Opening up one of the entrances to his grand train, Dyle slipped into one of the comfortable, soft beds in the back, where all the cargo was. That was his secret spot, as he claimed it was called.
Shuffling to his side, Dyle brought a nearby candle close to his face, and he blew the flame away. The brave embers softened into ash, the light fading into a darkness that swallowed Dyle whole.
—《★★★★★》—
Handy box of chocolates to save the day as always. Bassie wasn't supposed to be strolling the lobby of Gardenview tonight, but she had this urge pulling her in. It started with a thought and a promise from Bobette. About a year ago now, Bobette promised Bassie that they could go on a few runs when Christmas rolled around. Well, Christmas came, and that night, she heard nothing from Bobette.
At first, Bassie came to the saddening conclusion that maybe, just maybe, she really wasn't familiar with the mains, and she was easily forgettable. Dread seeped in at the mere mention, her stomach twisting into knots and her head becoming scrambled. She'd clench her eyes shut, trying not to cry as she hid from her peers. Her floor was spacious but not spacious enough to house her worries, her struggles, her tears…
Bassie had been hunched over behind a huge shelf housing toons of plushies when she overheard Flyte. Easing up a bit, pretending as if she wasn't bawling her eyes out, Bassie pressed her ear against the back of the dusty, vintage unit. It was a tad bit hard to hear, so she pushed herself against the wood harder.
“Do you really think so?” Flyte asked, surely pacing in circles. He was still trying to learn how to fly.
“I know so!” Cocoa exclaimed, her voice echoing off the walls. Bassie sighed, wishing she could share a slice of that charm. “What's Christmas without Bobette?! I bet they're freaking out right now!”
Bassie was sure they're doing more than just freaking out. Bobette's missing? That explains it.
Trying to listen more into the two toons conversing, she pressed too hard and underestimated her strength. The shelf went flying forward, and she did, too. Bassie flopped over and groaned, and Cocoa pulled her up.
“Baaasssie!” Cocoa called out, holding the basket up with her paws. Bassie narrowed her eyes, her body burning with agony from the fall. “You okay, silly? What were you doing?”
“Spring cleaning.” She whispered, trying to crack her back. Oh, how it ached.
Bassie warmly smiled at the thought. Even though sometimes envy pulled at her heart, she still liked Cocoa as a friend. She just wasn't in the mood to talk most of the time. She appreciates the offers, but it's like the words get stuck in her throat every time. When she sees the chocolate rabbit smile with the other mains, her arms inviting and awaiting, she wishes she was in that place. Why isn't she like that? She isn't picture perfect like the other mains. Why?
Tonight, Bassie was on a mission. Pretending like the detective that stalked Gardenview in the night, Bassie held her breath as Dyle passed by. She had heard everything. It was like the scene flashed before her eyes, seeing an undeniable flare in Cosmo's gaze, a fire ignited within. That energy in the way he moved, the way he spoke, it was like he was possessed. The Easter main wondered if he learned that from Sprout.
Nonetheless, everything was quiet now. The elevators were surprisingly open, the fluorescent lights flashing down on the gritty, tile floor. The scent of floral hit Bassie, and she raised a hand to shuffle through her flowers. Was that from herself? Perhaps it was Dandy watching over a late night run. Dark splotches were smeared over the beige walls, the ichor was fresh, the blood of a toon. The purple hue was present under the lights, and Bassie's fingertips reached out. A daring gesture, one that felt slow, the clock hanging on the wall ceasing to move.
Ichor stuck to her fingers, attracted to her flesh. Bassie pulled away as a familiar sense came to her nose. It was metallic, and Bassie could taste it on her tongue. A thick copper, a bit of iron… She swallowed it all down with a thick gulp, desperate to rid of her sin.
Grinding her palm against one of the bigger buttons, the door slammed shut, and the shaft buzzed around her. The clicking of rusty gears above filled the elevator, pushing Bassie’s descent down. Wiping the filthy blood on her skirt, Bassie nearly gagged at the way it smeared, like it was her own.
Every floor downward was colder, and Bassie could see her breath puffing out, clouding on the machine. Being alone meant it took longer to get through. She wasn't good at machines at all. Every turn of the valve made the machine creak and cry. Vee would've been flawless at this, her mechanical tight grip faultlessly spinning the valve, the machine heavy with that sickeningly dark substance. It bubbled every time Bassie gripped the valve a tad bit too hard. Her grip was rigid and rough—nothing like how Shelly would've done it.
Floor twenty-five arrived, and Bassie's inventory was empty. Her arms were doused in bandages, and the seething pain from being attacked still settled in. Certain movements made her arch her back in agony, her eyes clenched shut. These twisteds were ruthless. Still, there is no sign of Bobette. This floor was odd, to say the least.
Pine trees. Bassie's legs dragged on by their own accord, her hands grasping into fists before going limp. Onto the first machine, Bassie took a deep breath within. The air rushed through her lungs, reverberating through her blood flow. Her sickening, disgusting, blood flow. Sinful, this feeling was getting old. The scent of metal is overwhelming. She can't swallow it down anymore. It's getting stronger—it's drawing closer.
Her gut is twisting. She's about to vomit. God, that chocolate and candy isn't setting well. She can't do this. Palms slick with sweat, Bassie collapses to her knees. It burns. It's too harsh, this floor. Cold, unforgiving, and harsh.
“God, forgive me…” She'd beg, eyes filled with tears. The loud stomping made her ears ring, and she couldn't see past a few feet. Trying to pull herself up, Bassie's hand pulled against the wall, leaving a trace of ichor. A bandaid was laid on the carpet ahead, and she swiped it. The floor was trembling, her prayers being met. Was this God?
No.
This was far from it.
Up ahead was a mirror, and Bassie tilted her desperate gaze up. Eyes full of tears, she finally saw the silhouette she was looking for. As tall as the Christmas tree looming in the center, as grim as the harsh cold, as dark as the stygian liquid that plagued Gardenview was Bobette. That smile still made Bassie's heart flutter, and her handles gracefully swung as she quickly rotated on her heel. One sharp shared exhale, and Bassie felt pain she never knew she could experience.
Scooped up in the hands of who was once an angel, Bassie rested her forehead on Bobette's temple. A glimpse of humanity flashed through Bobette's eyes, and Bassie’s flowers were starting to welt. The vibrant hues of pink and purple blended into the contrasting hues of darkness, marking Bassie's fate. Claws twitching, Bobette couldn't fight this.
Her smile faded, and she brought Bassie closer. Opening the bandaid, Bassie pressed two fingers on Bobette's cheek. Smoothing it out on the crack across her face, Bassie observed her breath mix with Bobette's, a testament to their friendship, now burned into a bittersweet relationship.
Touching lips, Bassie felt her shoulders go limp. She could hear the soft murmurs, and her eyes fell shut.
“We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year…”
—《♡♡♡》—