Chapter Text
Again, I run away, and nevermore I'll return.
Sprinting into the abysmal darkness, my hand clutches the familiar collar around my neck, the remnants of the broken-off metallic chain jingling eerily. My lungs fight to ventilate, the light-headedness overshadowing the ache in my bleeding palm, as I turn back for the final time. Glancing at that familiar building I've once called "home".
"I'm not going back there," I promise myself.
I keep on dashing endlessly. To where I'm heading, I do not know for certain, yet I continue nonetheless, through the diminishing signs of civilization and into the foreign forest, into unknown rows and columns of trees. Eventually depleting my stamina, I collapse onto a nearby tree, sitting on the moist earth, out of breath and out of my mind. It's not the first time I've reached this vast expanse of to-be timber, though for some reason, I sense a hint of finality in the atmosphere. The air in the forest is always rather vaporous, reducing the visibility of my environment whilst also increasing the ambiguity of it. In the distance, I notice a couple of indistinguishable entities, and instinctively shuffle back onto the firmness as my nervous system goes haywire against my will. Half-panicking, I wrest control of myself, grasping onto my leather collar for some psychological stability and balance and attempting to decelerate my breathing.
In, and hold, then out. Rinse and repeat, until clarity and lucidity return at last. Silently, I thank myself for learning the box-breathing technique.
I survey my surroundings, and the mysterious figures appear to have disappeared from view. Letting out a shaky sigh of temporary relief, I allow myself to partially relax against the rough trunk behind me. It's really late into the night, and the future seems so full of uncertainty now. I'd better rest.
The morning sunlight shines into the slivers between the woods, onto my slumbering self. It's not very bright with the dense morning mist, but still bright enough to rouse me from my brief sleep. I lazily open my eyes, yesterday's exhaustion slightly receding. Although the nap isn't long exactly --- from the extent of my recharge, I gather an estimation of around 5 hours --- it's sufficient for me to continue functioning, or at least surviving. Gradually, I stand up, reevaluating my situation whilst absent-mindedly fumbling with the rusty buckle of my worn-out collar. Has it become so much shabbier overnight? Looking down, I find the footprints left behind after yesterday's hasty scramble, still moderately visible despite the weather. My gaze trails along the track, staring back at its place of origin.
"No," I said aloud to myself. "I've sworn not to go back, remember?"
I tear my gaze away, redirecting it towards the opposite side of the infinite stretch of foliage, as I tread onwards.
As I walk past one tree after another, my eyes dart left and right at the slightest movement in the periphery. Subconsciously, I keep a tight hold of my collar, out of both anxiety and fear of its further deterioration. The forest's ambience is nerve-wracking enough, further enhanced by the omnipresent fog. Nevertheless, I continue my trek forward.
After an arbitrary period of time, I peer into the territory beyond, and manage to discern a more diffuse spot amidst the haze. Invigorated by this discovery, I gather what remains of my strength and speed forward into a clearing. Buildings of various heights suddenly fill my visual field. In front of the neat line of towers, vehicles blare unpleasant sounds as they hurtle back and forth on asphalt roads. Immediately before me lies a tiny patch of grassy plain and basic recreational facilities. A park on the outskirts of a city.
I instinctively shake my head, taking a while to acclimate to the sudden change of scenery and the intense, discombobulating noise. Out of habit, I inspect my vicinity with apt caution. Fortunately, the area appears to be void of people. Not daring enough to dwell in this brief respite, I hurry myself to explore, delving into this peculiar concrete jungle.
Walking along the strangely desolate streets, I stumble into what seems to be an advertisement. My attention is at once drawn to the poster before me, the vibrant colours a sharp contrast against the bleak cityscape. "A home for the wandering and lost" is spelt out in quaint fonts, with a string of addresses written beneath. For a moment, I hesitate over whether or not to pay a visit to the establishment in question. After all, some things are just too good to be true. Finally, I push back against my doubts, navigating through the labyrinth of criss-crosses with the aid of road signs and maps along the way. Map reading is one of the pitifully few skills that I'm decent at. After a couple of close encounters with rubbish and passersby, I arrive at the aforementioned building, its exterior design equally flashy as the advertisement. Pausing momentarily again, I brace myself as I enter.
The melodic jingle from my entrance alerts the staff indoors. One of them, a tall young noiret, begins to approach me almost automatically. "Why, greetings!" He bends over slightly to face me. "Welcome to 'Lost And Found Shelter', a place to stay for you and others alike..." He continues to ramble enthusiastically about the fancy facility that I've found myself in, before beckoning me to follow. Maintaining a safe distance, I walk behind him as we delve deeper into the department. Rounding a corner, a vast tessellation of kennels in steel lines the walls of the chamber from floor to ceiling. In a few of the quarters, their residents swivel around to face me, or rather the noiret, all wearing indiscernible expressions. Blame my myopia for that.
At last, we reach an empty crate amongst the infinite others, all identical. He fumbles a bit with the mechanisms, before finally unlocking the miniature gate. "In you go!" He says to me cheerily, as if cooing a child or pet. "And please don't worry too much. We'll keep you healthy and fed, until someone new comes and fetches you, alright?" Nodding unconsciously despite hardly understanding the sentence, I crawl into the ever-so familiar tight space of the cage. I remember when it used to be near claustrophobic, yet now it's become more comforting than frightening.
As I settle into my new accommodation, the broken residue of the chain to my collar rattles and jangles, drawing the noiret's attention. He stiffens for a heartbeat, reaching out a hand to more closely inspect my collar. Stroking the old leather, his fingers clasp onto the keen, torn-apart metal, then an inconspicuous name tag. "Arty," he mumbles softly, flipping and twisting the iron plate absent-mindedly. Suddenly, his arms retract from the crate, and he leaves with a cursory "enjoy your stay". Closing the gate behind me, I lie on the cozy pastel blanket and stare blankly into the cages above and beyond.
"I hope this is not another mistake," I sigh.
A series of gentle knocks on the door pulls me out of my dream, back into reality. Still rather woozy, I turn around to push open my compartment's gate. Standing at the entrance is the now almost familiar noiret, in the usual bright work clothes and name tag. "Breakfast time, sleepyhead!" He calls out to me as I inch towards the exit of my cage. After getting back on my feet, I trail behind him routinely until we reach the cafeteria. It's similar to the sleeping quarters, though with columns and rows of tables and benches instead of crates. Most of the other residents are already dining at their respective regular spots. No regulations exist for the seating locations, though everyone prefers order over randomness, even if just a mere simulacrum.
The noiret departs with a casual "bye" and a brisk wave to gather with the rest of the staff members, whilst I manoeuvre through the lattice of furniture on my own to the opposite end, where canteen personnel serve each meal. After collecting my portion, I retrace my steps, back to the middle of the hall, at my very own regular spot. Just as I'm about to devour Friday's cereal mix, I glance upwards to find the expectant eyes of Mys. Sighing and shaking my head in pretend irritation, I place down my utensils. Wearing a lukewarm smile, I greet them, "Morning, Mys." Immediately, their expression brightens reflexively. "Top of the morning, Arty!" They exclaim, waving back with exuberant enthusiasm.
I first stumbled into Mys a couple of days ago, whilst walking to the library in an attempt to rid myself of boredom. Interestingly, the shelter accepts books as well as monetary donations. All of a sudden, a shadowy figure appeared from behind the library door, dashing straight ahead into my frozen self. After tumbling around for quite a while, I disentangled myself to better recognize the other. Lying down on the ground was a person in various shades of red, with patches of cherry fabric sewn haphazardly onto their rose yarn sweater and burgundy shorts. Soon, they stood back up again, albeit still rather dizzy and shaky from the plummet. Adjusting their stance, my interlocutor stared wordlessly at me, and I scrutinized the other's appearance. Those ears atop their head caught my attention, their form undeniably canine, almost familiar.
They were the first to break the awkward silence. "Hi there!" They chirped blithely, disarmingly waving at me with an innocent, childish grin. Despite not being the greatest at socializing, eventually I decided to chime in. "Hello," I responded, with as much politeness as I was able to offer. "I was wondering, what got you hurrying out of there just now?" "Oh, it's something rather silly..." They trailed off, gazing away in embarrassment. "Some kind of bug flew straight out of a novel, scaring the wits out of me." Turning their worried face towards me, they quickly blurted, "Sorry for stumbling into you, by the way. You're not hurt or anything, right?" "Not in the least," I answered perfunctorily. "I'm alright, you needn't trouble yourself with---"
"Wait, what's that thing hanging on your neck?" They interrupted, out of the blue, stretching a curious hand towards my collar. "Is that a..." Automatically, I withdrew myself from their reach. "Don't touch me!" I barked, scowling irately. At once, I realized my spontaneous outlash towards the innocuous offender, and hastily apologized, "I'm terribly sorry, for my indecent mannerisms." Sneaking a glimpse upon my mistaken adversary, I remarked on their panic-struck visage, their arm retracted from my startling outburst. Not again. With a pensive and resigned sigh, I affixed, "Please do forgive me," in a semi-desperate attempt at salvaging this newborn companionship. I dared not lock eyes with my victim, bowing down instead to avert my sight.
"Look, it's fine," they reapproached my cowering profile, though with much hesitation. "I'm to blame for trying to touch you without asking, right?" I again straighten myself, rather in shock from their instantaneous pardon. Placing a soothing hand on my shoulder, they continued with the other hand outstretched, "Don't worry a bit, capishe? Anyways, I'm Mys!" I smirked faintly, relaxing myself as I accepted Mys' handshake. "My name's Arty. It's a great pleasure to have met you. Speaking of which..." I paused briefly, holding onto the metallic piece of my collar, then carried on, "This part's incredibly sharp, though, notwithstanding its danger, still a piece of memorabilia which I greatly treasure. Please, be more cautious when around me." Nodding fervently whilst escorting me back to the library, they nonchalantly replied, "I've got it! Now, about a couple of reading suggestions..."
"Have you slept well last night?" Mys enquires avidly of me, completely oblivious to their own uneaten meal. "Considering how often you stay past midnight, I'd expect not so much," they mischievously append. Donning a bleak smile, I rejoin with counterfeit defeat, "I must admit, some publications do contain irresistible allure, so oftentimes I find myself lost utterly within the sheets of paper" Mys nudges me on the forehead tenderly, another one of their common friendly gesticulations, and retorts, "Well, I just hope that you'd look after yourself more. Bags are already darkening under those weary eyes, dear..." I dismiss their emphatic concerns and authentic worries with an inoffensive eyeroll, before retreating to my breakfast. After my unobjectionable reaction, they finally begin to scarf down the cereal, all waterlogged from the time spent conversing.
Night dawns upon the world so quickly. Bidding goodnight to my wondrous friend, I traverse through the hallways of the shelter centre on a regular stroll to the library. Mys also enjoys various literary works, except they value somatic wellbeing more, whereas I prioritize clarity and knowledge over anything, perhaps to an unhealthy extent. Ancient self-destructive habits, which I have still to this day. Despite my overt passion for reading writings, on this occasion, which I intend to attend to. Entering via the inordinately elaborate double-wing doors, I turn right sharply to arrive at a rather discreet compartment, the umber walls and the auburn shelf on one end near-perfectly concealing the entrance. Silently settling into the alcove, I switch on the light, the flickering flame dimming and flaring sporadically. I contemplate quietly against the mirror directly in front, the reason behind my current detour. Forcing my eyes to refocus in spite of their fatigue, I inspect my familiar yet foreign reflection.
My intact hand placidly strokes the outlandish ears on my head. People often designate them as "dog-ish", atypical for any normal human. By now, I've finally learnt to choke out the annoying bickering voices. Perhaps they're what Mys reminds me of. Vacantly, my fingers involuntarily comb the pelage on their backsides, strangely smooth since my residence in this place. My jet black hair's grown ever longer and thus more unkempt, although not quite messy, reaching the shoulders and potentially the back as well. I habitually adjust my oblong ebony spectacles, deliberately avoiding my own repulsively grotesque face. Ultimately, my field of vision zeroes in on the all-too-familiar collar. Holding the jangling segment of what used to be a chain against the unstable light source, with moderate grudge I scrupulously examine its piercing margins. The sheer act elicits a deja vu, tingling sensation in my right palm's centre despite the wound's recent recovery. Speechlessly, I retrieve the duct tape from inside my pocket, clinging desperately onto apathy, feigning nonchalance, as I meticulously wrap it around the hazardous region. After using maybe an excessive amount of the adhesive, I exhaust the remainder of the miniature roll, stowing the wastage away with a trace of reluctance. Staring back at the reflective surface of the mirror, I momentarily glance at the nametag bound to my collar, the glistening lexicons bringing as much solace as regret. I tear away my scrutiny from the collar, instead inspecting the filth accumulating on my ultramarine cardigan and lilac dress. Perhaps it's time for another wash?
An abrupt series of atypical racket startles me greatly, drawing my consciousness away from the mirror to beyond the compartment entry. Circumspectly, I crack open the doorway by the slightest fraction, which allows me to investigate the activity outside. Amidst the darkness, a pair of staff members seems to engage in a vigorous argument, their strenuous utterances slashing through the night's tranquillity. "Atlas, this business ain't sustainable," a feminine voice objects fiercely. "Plus, you've known that from the very start, but still you chose to turn a blind eye---" "Zip it, Harmonia," a masculine voice promptly interposes, sounding as if attempting to conceal their distress. "You're not suggesting we abandon everyone right then and there, right? They're our... No, my responsibility now. It's become my obligation, keeping them well." A halt, maybe out of prostration or burnout. "The donations are working, though not enough to cover the entire expenditure. We just have to wait for better times to arrive, because if things keep getting worse..." Both remain wordless for a while. Then, quite facetiously yet apprehensively, Harmonia begins, "Then, what? Are you planning on auctioning the residents at the black market for ludicrous wealth, or something?" I indistinctly hear Atlas' breath halting instantaneously, confirming the other's outrageous theory. They dwell in the gradually restoring stillness as well as their own perturbance. "Who's the first?" Harmonia eventually initiates. Sighing bleakly, Atlas responds in a hush. "I'll pick by dice roll, next morning. I found a contractor yesterday. They want one at dawn tomorrow." I continue to listen discreetly in dreadful trepidation at their declaration of blatant kidnapping and trafficking, instinctively shuffling backwards and trampling upon a creaking floorboard. Just my disastrous luck.
The approaching silhouettes instantly induce an emergency response in my brain, inundating my bloodstream with epinephrine and noradrenaline. In a stroke of genius, I hastily extinguish the illuminating flame and sprawl inertly on the ground, hiding myself under the dim colours of my attire and blending in with the dark environment. Without warning, the duo unveils my secret hideout, surveying the alcove for the previous indication of movement. For numerous moments, I'm virtually able to sense the staff's burning glare as they painstakingly detect any signs of life, the seconds expanding rapidly into an eternity. So many aeons elapse before the compartment's door closes again, permitting a surreptitious sigh from me. Too close for consolation.
I arise once more, removing the dust and grime from my outfit whilst spying out the open air. After confirming my impermanent safety, both current and future, I finally exit the space with due vigilance. Staring into the ex-clandestine mirror for possibly the last time, to my own sombre reflection I lament, "Good luck, Arty... You'll need it."
"What... What's the matter, Arty?" Mys yawns languidly, blinking to adjust to the sight of their nocturnal friend in front of them. "It's well past midnight right now. Oughtn't we sleep?" "Something of utmost urgency," I precipitately announce, continuing to shake the lethargy out of Mys' weary frame whilst rousing them from slumber. "I'll soon provide an apt explanation, dear. Alas, we've precious time remaining. Let's depart from this establishment, at once." Maybe too impetuously, I draw one of their limbs with as much strength as possible, trying to extract them from the crate in which they often reside. Mys naturally protests my dubious insistence, unintentionally slurring their phrases. "Arty, recompose yourself!" Breaking free of my overly tight grasp with a swift fling, they resume in great haste, nearly pleading, "Why must we leave this shelter? What prompts your adventitious expedition? Please, I require a justification right now..." Unable to convince the other, I unwillingly relinquish my attempts to sway their decision, instead recounting the entire furtive conversation between Atlas and Harmonia, about the hideous contrivance. Through the dimness, I watch as my friend's expression transforms from confusion to disbelief, and then silent despair. "Their ulterior intents perhaps once were of charity and benevolence, yet that's currently no more. As such, for both your existence and mine, we need to evacuate immediately from---"
"No," they breathe plainly, with uncanny absolute finality. "I'm... We are not leaving this centre." In shock and bewilderment at Mys' statement, I freeze in my tracks, unsure of my next choice of diction. "Despite the monotonous daily routine? Despite the obvious danger within? Despite the inevitable demise? That's flagrant ignorance, Mys!" On the verge of shouting, I vehemently dissent, almost in distraught over their obstinance. "I'm not forsaking you to perish in vain, and you're to escape alongside me---" "I've said, 'No'!" Mys growls tempestuously at me, their teeth baring menacingly and their eyes threateningly wide. Out of perplexity and fright, I back away from my overwrought friend, temporarily inarticulate. "This place... It's the only place where I've a semblance of security. A refuge of protection. A sanctuary of serenity. A home, even..."
Home. The single word brings along so many uncomfortable recollections that I wish so much to forget permanently. Too much unspoken pain. Too many unsaid regrets. With an unsteady inhale and exhale, Mys despondently stutters out, "I've grown so close to all the staff. Ersatz, Aegis, Nyx... They spare the disgusting undeserving me endless affection and tenderness, without requests for anything in return." Turning to face me directly again, with faltering articulation, they proceed, "Then, attachments develop over time, partially against my better judgment, to the point at which severing the connections simply hurts too much." Once again, Mys equips that willful facade of a bittersweet smile. "I'm certain that you'd be able to understand such emotions, right?" I blankly stare into their evidently miserable countenance, my larynx denying proper functionality. After a brief period of quiet standoff confrontation, I slightly raise my oddly hoarse voice. "Undeniably, the prospect of irreversible separation appears daunting. However, with due sincerity, I implore you to position yourself before the others, including myself. You're bound to wither in this place, for sooner or later they'll backstab you." I pause suddenly, recognizing the sheer absurdity of my assertion. "Though I risk seeming insane, I must profess that deserting this facility grants a greater probability of survival for both of us. Even when they do keep us cozy and healthy. Even when they do wish for the very best. Even when they do genuinely 'Love' us." Mys speechlessly remains, gazing through my vulnerable self. "Adamantly, I must refuse to accept the possibility of their potentially deadly actions towards you. I indeed comprehend your anguish, though you have to surrender this facsimile of solace, especially when your life's the price." Crystal tears glisten as they stream across their cheeks, whilst my own vision begins to cloud. In spite of my characteristic demeanour, I reach out to clutch the trembling hand of the other as myriads of emotions overwhelm me. "If you do agree to journey with me, I promise to safeguard you diligently, no matter the cost." Under dual layers of water, my view of Mys obfuscates further. "Please," I unsteadily utter my final plea. Letting out a cathartic sigh, they erase the moisture around my eyes and that in theirs, before eventually speaking.
"Yes. Let's go."