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Ragatha lies awake with her hands folded neatly across her stomach, the events of the day replaying behind her eyes on loop. An abstraction and a new member? It’s got to be some sort of record for the most chaotic day ever. She can only imagine how much worse it is for Pomni. Which is why she’s trying to forget the way she’d abandoned her in the hall, leaving her hurting and glitching. Shame on you, Ragatha. You know what she’s going through right now. Give her some grace…
She thinks back on her own interactions with Pomni throughout the day, regretting most of them. She thinks most of everything she tried to explain about the Circus had only confused the poor girl further. She should’ve taken things slower with her. Given her more time to process. Not that there was much time, since Caine seemed hellbent on making her first day as overstimulating as inhumanly possible, and what with Kaufmo’s abstraction, and Ragatha’s subsequent impairment for lack of better words, and…oh, boy. Today was not a good day.
She sighs, reaching out to turn off her bedside lamp. But right as her fingertips grasp the pull chain, she’s startled by a brisk knocking at her door. Nobody ever knocks on her door, and she can’t think of anybody who’d need anything right now aside from Pomni. Had she come to apologize? Ragatha stands from her bed and smooths her skirt down quickly, a pre-planned response already sitting on the tip of the tongue. Just before she can twist the doorknob, Pomni’s voice interrupts her, small and squeaky. “Wait, don’t open it yet.”
Ragatha pauses, slowly lowering her hand halfway. “Oh…okay? Is everything alright, Pomni?”
“I’m so sorry to bother you right now, I just wanted to ask, um…we can’t actually die here, right? I think Jax said that, but…that’s actually true, right?”
That’s an…odd question. Dread settles down heavy in the pit Ragatha’s stomach. “We definitely can’t die here in the tent,” she confirms hesitantly. “Sometimes we can temporarily die during adventures, but that’s not…” She’s overexplaining. “Pomni, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “I, uh. S[#^%]. I’m kind of freaking out right now. I think I’m bleeding. Like, everywhere.”
Ragatha yanks open the door in an instant, revealing her very new and very short digital coinhabitant. Pomni looks up at her with her huge pinwheel eyes, one of her chalky noodle arms grasped tightly in the other. There’s a thin, splotchy trail of mysterious black goop on the floor leading from where she stands to her own bedroom. “It won’t stop,” she explains, almost sheepishly despite the evident panic in her voice.
“Oh goodness, Pomni!” Ragatha exclaims, clasping a hand over her mouth. “What happened? We need to find Caine!”
Pomni’s multicolored pupils briefly morph into animated scribbles, clearly distressed by the idea. “Is there anything else I can do besides bringing that lunatic over here?” she whispers urgently, as if the mere mention of their toothy ringmaster could summon him.
Ragatha blinks rapidly, struggling to form a coherent thought through her own alarm. She forces herself to snap out of it and pivots back towards her door, gesturing for Pomni to follow. “Here, follow me.”
Pomni follows her inside and shuts the door behind her to minimize any attention she might accidentally bring to the situation by leaving it open. Ragatha beelines for the corner of her room and rifles through a large chest of fabric scraps, pulling out one of the thicker cloths and testing its stretch with a brief tug. “Where are you hurt?”
Pomni lifts her arm up, but doesn’t remove her death grip on it. “I-I don’t even know what exactly I’m bleeding, but it’s been going for a while now. I dunno how much of this s-stuff I have left in me,” she admits, halfway to the point of hyperventilating.
“Do you feel okay?” Ragatha checks, genuinely unsure whether or not the stuff leaking from Pomni’s arm actually needs to be inside of her. She’s never bled anything like that—her own insides are entirely composed of white stuffing. “Are you lightheaded? Dizzy?”
“A little.” Pomni turns her head and buries her face in one of her puffy sleeves. “Please tell me I can fix this…”
“We’ll see,” Ragatha promises, secretly feeling unhopeful about it. Her own skin is easy enough to sew back up, it being fabric and all. But Pomni’s is really different. It looks thick and rubbery, like Jax’s. She tries to remember if she’s ever seen Jax bleeding like this. She doesn’t think she has. “Give it here.”
Pomni obediently offers up her wrist, and Ragatha pries her fingers off. Immediately, the same metallic black fluid that’s now surely seeping into the carpet outside of her door begins spewing out in small but thick rivulets. Yeah. No way she’s fixing that. But maybe she can at least hold it? Their digital bodies don’t function in the same way real people do, and Ragatha has learned over the years that slapping a band-aid over a bullet hole is often more than enough to be effective—at least in some cases. So without much other choice, she swoops in and wraps the rag she acquired tightly around where the “blood” seeps out, tying it up in a secure knot. As if by magic, or more likely, cartoon logic, all of the liquid appears securely contained. She steps back to give the quivering girl some space. “That should be good for now,” she says, sinking in relief. “As long as you don't take it off. But next time you see Caine, you’re going to need to ask him to reset you. It’ll repair the damage.”
“Reset me?” Pomni echoes, a disbelieving laugh crackling out of her throat. “Oh, god, we really are just…” She tugs at the tails of her hat, distressed. Her irises look like scribbles again. “What happened to my real body? How is this even possible? I don’t wanna be…I’m not…”
“I’m sorry, Pomni,” Ragatha says sympathetically. “I know this is a lot to take in. But I promise, it’s not all bad.”
Pomni ignores her. “This is so f[#$%]ing stupid,” she hisses. “It’s not even been a day and I’m already…” She laughs again wetly. “Why’d this have to happen to me, man?”
Wordlessly, Ragatha pulls the seat out from under her piano. Pomni takes the hint and plops down on it, letting her head drop into her arms. Ragatha herself sits down on the edge of her bed, rubbing her arm insecurely. Everything she tries to say to be reassuring only seems to backfire. She’s not sure what else to do besides let Pomni cry this out, and perhaps comfort her afterwards. So she lets the room go quiet, save for Pomni’s occasional sniffles and the nervous tapping of her cloth foot on the carpet.
Finally, after a few minutes of this, Pomni speaks. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. And…for earlier.” She swallows hard. Ragatha’s heart jumps, surprised by the apology. Pomni’s being vague, but the guilt in her eyes makes it clear enough what she’s referring to. Her hard feelings dissipate instantly. In the back of her mind, she chastises herself for it. It only takes the smallest crumb of kindness to earn her adoration.
“It’s alright,” she says quickly, genuinely pleased that Pomni at least cared enough to say sorry. She pulls up pieces from the script she had written in her head earlier to respond to the apology. “It’s perfectly understandable what you were going through at the time, so there’s no hard feelings. Really.”
Pomni gives her a doubtful look, and Ragatha’s confidence falters. She shakes her head lightly, steering the conversation to something else. “But enough about that—are you okay? Do you feel better now?”
“Not really.” Pomni heaves a shuddering breath, crossing her arms over her chest and finally sitting up straight. “But, uh, thanks for your help.”
“Of course.” Ragatha glances down at the makeshift bandage, fascinated by the fact that not a drop has leaked through despite how much the wound had been oozing. She hadn’t had time to dwell on it earlier, but she’s fairly certain she knows what’s going on here. “Can I ask what happened?”
Pomni shrugs, shoulders hitching up a little with discomfort. “This body is really weird. I was messing around and trying to see what I could do with it.” She flexes her four gloved fingers for emphasis. “Then I wanted to see what would happen if I cut it. My skin, I mean. And I went way too far, I guess.” She meets Ragatha’s eyes. “Sorry. That was probably kind of morbid, wasn’t it?”
Ragatha is a little surprised by how easily Pomni admitted what she’d been doing, though she’s sure everyone here in the Circus had done the same at some point. It’s a pretty typical reaction of new members curious to test the limits and restrictions of their new bodies. But still, that doesn't stop her heart from aching whenever she watches it happen. “I see,” she says slowly, trying to figure out a way to politely beg Pomni never to do such a thing again without being a hypocrite.
“I should probably be considering myself lucky,” Pomni says, kicking her feet out in front of her to examine them. “I’m glad I at least ended up looking like…well, you know. Human-ish. But…” She growls under her breath, her lip trembling with disgust as she stares at her body. "I hate this."
“You get used to it after a while. Honestly, I barely remember what I looked like before…” Ragatha trails off, stomach twisting. That was probably a terrible thing to say to someone who just got here. Sure enough, Pomni’s eyes flash with newfound alarm, horrified by the idea of being trapped for so long that she might forget her own face. “A-anyway! My point is—” Ragatha scrambles for words, trying to salvage this. “—things will get easier! I promise you that. Just…please be more careful, alright? Even if our bodies can’t really take permanent damage, it’s still important to take care of them for our mind’s sake, you know?”
“R-right…” Pomni responds. She shakes her head slowly, staring back down at the floor. “Thanks, Ragatha. I think I’m going to head to sleep.”
Ragatha presses her hand to her chest, cursing herself for saying the wrong thing. “Pomni, I–”
Pomni looks back at her, almost pleadingly. Ragatha hates that she cannot truthfully tell her what she really wants to hear. “...Sleep well, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Pomni swallows thickly, and steps outside into the hall.
“A-and,” Ragatha stammers, just before she can shut the door. Pomni pauses. “Do you need help? Cleaning up your room or anything?”
Pomni looks away. “No thanks. Goodnight.”
The door closes. Ragatha remains motionless on her bed for a while, hugging herself. No matter how many times she’s seen it happen, watching newcomers slowly come to terms with their fate never gets any easier.