Chapter Text
Ragatha sits in her room, where a vintage desk lamp is the sole source of light. Exhausted, yet filled with a desperate passion inside her prison—like a locked closet where she used to hide from her problems both metaphorically and literally—she lifts her cut palm over her Bible with a heavy sigh and writes about how the latest adventure went. Her diary is her only chance to lay bare her true feelings.
She remembers her first days in this technicolor hell, trapped with a weirdo who, despite being kind, was still a crazy. She remembers how she used to steal a blade to paint her dark pictures right onto the old trees near their family farm. Back then, after long hours of hard labor, as the sun drew close to the horizon, she would desperately find a way to escape and carve out in her elegant handwriting: "God, how I hate my life."
And how later, with a trembling and already crooked hand, when she finally managed to find her Holy Grail in one of the adventures, she wrote: "I miss my life."
But that is already in the past; it was months ago, maybe even years. It’s hard to keep track of time now, when the sun seems to exist, yet the horizon is nowhere to be seen.
"Dear diary, I can no longer remember the days when I was completely whole. Day after day, over and over again, I keep getting hurt somehow. If my mother saw my dress, I’d definitely be trapped in a hour-long lecture on what it means to be a lady. And then she would dress me up in something that would literally crush my ribs—and this time, I’d sincerely thank Jax for ripping that torture chamber open with his knife.
Speaking of Jax. He was bothering Gangle again, and just as I was about to lecture him once more, Zooble beat me to it. It seems they’ve grown closer. Or maybe Zooble is just disappointed in me and no longer believes I can help. And it feels like Pomni and Jax have grown closer, too. They looked so... intimate?
I can’t remember the last time Jax was that close to anyone, except for... well, it doesn't matter. But seeing them today, I just didn’t know what to feel. I fell out of love with Jax a long time ago—I don’t think I ever really loved him to begin with... just as he never loved me. But I simply couldn't watch them, yet I couldn't look away either. Pomni must have thought I was freak. And all my attempts to get closer to her died right then and there.
How does he manage to pull this off every single time?"
Her palm slams against the desk, knocking over her pen, which rolls down to the very bottom. Terrified of her own hand—as if it weren't just a tattered puppet limb before her, but a real, living scarlet serpent—Ragatha recoils and falls with a crash. She is so exhausted. The adventure had drained her completely, and the very bottom of her abyss was so alluring in its serenity. In its darkness.
But Ragatha still has to find her pen, sew up all her wounds and cracks, and maybe, just maybe, she will finally be able to find her peace in that slumber.
Unless, of course, she has that nightmare again.
__________
And there she is, back again, seeing her own reflection in a kitchen knife.
"Why didn't you stop him?"
The disappointed words churn on a loop once more.
"I thought you two were happy."
Her honest words die in the silence.
"You should have warned me."
The defense has no case; there is no winning this trial.
"Because of you, I'm no longer here. That’s how it was with your horse that had leukemia. That’s how it will be with Pomni."
"No, no, please, not again, no, I won't pull the trigger."
"You must."
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There is no more kitchen, no desk, no knife, and the shadows loom behind her. Only a blinding light and a sharp gunshot.
Ragatha, drenched in her usual pixelated sweat, doesn't know what to do with herself.
She gets up from the bed. She paces in circles. She opens the door and runs.
Away from the dark closet, where the ghosts of her past are begging to come in.
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Pomni couldn’t sleep. She had ended up in a place that was both her living hell and a dream come true. Her brain just wouldn't leave her alone. Her grandmother was right: “Be careful what you wish for.” You wanted stability and control? Here you go. Bored out of your mind and lacking adventure in your life? Well, now you can choke on it until you've had your fill. Time slipped away so unpredictably. There was no longer a rainbow after the rain, signaling that it was finally time to crawl out of your shell. Realizing that at this rate she would never fall asleep, she went out to look for where the sun goes to die.
The night—or rather, the "sleep mode" in the circus—looked so different from the day.
The day was trapped in a loud, chaotic palette of primary colors that drove her mind to madness. But the night muted that circus gaudiness, washing the world in soft, contrasting hues where she could finally breathe in peace.
And Pomni might have kept exploring these contrasts, if not for the fact that right there, not far away, appeared the most contrasting, the most beautiful, and the most vibrant pixel of all.
Ragatha was running like a scarlet dove, her vibrant red hair cutting through the deep blue night. In a place frozen in dead, digital silence, she was the only living, breathing thing. Pomni was used to seeing her move with the poised grace of an elegant lady, but now, that sophisticated posture had completely abandoned this ship. Driven by pure panic, Ragatha’s frantic strides tore at her proper dress, shamelessly exposing flashes of skin.
Pomni felt a sudden, hot embarrassment wash over her. During the day, her jester suit was just part of the circus's blinding palette, but now, under the cover of night, those colors had muted along with the rest of the world. Yet, as the heat of her own blushing blood rushed to her face, the red of her suit seemed to ignite against the deep blue night. She was no longer just a digital avatar; she was becoming real, burning with life. She knew she should look away, that it was better to just leave and pretend she had never seen Ragatha like this—yet she physically couldn't tear her eyes away. Her brain was clearly against it. Dressed in her own sudden, living red, Pomni just stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the riddle to solve itself: where on earth was Ragatha running so fast?
But that, apparently, would remain a secret forever. Because the moment Ragatha finally noticed Pomni, she lost her footing and tripped over what was clearly a glitched pixel.
Driven by reflex, Pomni rushed toward the crash, but her short legs didn't make the rescue mission any easier. And besides, it was already too late. Ragatha lay there like dead weight. Pomni was just about to offer her help, reaching out her hand just a fraction of an inch.
But Ragatha, in her desperate need for flawless pretense, nimbly scrambled up, brushing the circus dust off her dress.
"Oh! Uh... hey, Pomni!" Ragatha wheezed, her voice catching as she tried to balance the raw exhaustion of her wild sprint with the sudden, suffocating weight of her own awkwardness.
"Uh, hey?" Pomni replied, just as awkwardly.
And so, their silent game of Jenga began. They just stood there, waiting to see who would be clumsy enough to bring the tower down.
"It’s a beautiful night to enjoy some fresh air," Ragatha finally said, apparently forgetting that there is no air in the circus.
The answer was as clear as day. Both of them.
"Oh yeah. And on a night like this, you were planning to run away from us? If you found an exit and it’s red, I really wouldn't recommend it."
"What? No, no, Pomni! I would never do that to yo... to you guys."
"Okay, okay, calm down, Ragatha. I’m just kidding. I was just trying to... uh, why are you even running around the circus at night anyway?"
Ragatha already knew this question was inevitable, so she tried to buy her way out with the cheapest excuse possible.
"Oh, you know... it’s just nice to keep myself in shape in this quiet."
It was a doubly absurd thing to say. In this digital cage, there was no biological body to keep in shape, no muscles to tone, just as there was no air to breathe. Yet there she was, piling one ridiculous lie onto another, claiming to chase a quiet that had already been suffocating her for years.
As if Ragatha hadn't actually been trapped inside this lonely silence her entire life.
"Oh. Well, in that case, mind if I join you?" Pomni said, swaying on her clearly clumsy feet. Or was she just nervous?
Well, Ragatha wasn't in the best shape either: her dress was hanging loose, sweat was dripping down her face.
"Can't sleep either?"
Of course she can't sleep, Ragatha, otherwise why would she be out here? Or do you seriously think she was looking for you from the start? Do you really think anyone would ever look for an old doll hidden under the bed?
The anxious, yet so familiar thoughts finally quieted down in Ragatha's mind when Pomni came after them.
"Yeah. And I want to spend time with you."
Maybe, just maybe, she was finally found.