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It’s raining.
Stelle doesn’t know how long it’s been raining, nor where it’s raining from. The sky has been pitch black with purple hues streaking across like snakes as long as she can remember. There’s not a single cloud blotting out the world above, yet it continues to downpour. Her clothes are soaked to the point of idly dripping onto the floor as she walks. The fabric of her jacket clings to her and makes her feel like she’s carrying twice her normal weight, but she refuses to take it off.
Taking it off means she needs to carry it, which may as well be the same thing.
Dropping it off to the side means just… losing it. How would she be able to get back to it? She doesn’t even know where the hell she is.
All she can do is walk, walk, and walk some more. One problem is that the “walk” in question is less of a walk and more of a stupid, slow, and tiresome trudge. Whatever the ground is made of constantly sticks to her shoes like it’s some sort of nasty concoction of sludge and mud.
The other problem, however, involves the devilish lull of the phantom trailing behind her. No matter how far she travels, all that thing does is copy her. It doesn’t get any closer, nor does it get any further away. The worst part about it is that the entity wears her face with piercing red eyes that refuse to leave her alone. She suspects it’s the same one she saw trying to lure her away from her companions before everything went… black.
It calls to Stelle, beckons to her with sweet promises she knows they won’t be able to keep. All they do is speak sweet nothings in an attempt to try to get her to move towards them.
Like hell she’s gonna do that again.
It sucks. It really does. She’s tired of running, tired of being away from home, but there’s no exit in sight.
As she treks onwards, her movements grow increasingly sluggish. Stelle ends up dragging her feet more than she lifts them. It’s no surprise when the ground tilts, or rather, she tilts, and falls forward. Her hands are the only saving grace keeping her from faceplanting into the muck. One knee sinks into the gross substance along with it.
She can hear the thing behind her giggling and cooing at Stelle like she’s some kind of toddler tripped over an invisible wire. It’s nothing short of humiliating. Fury weaves its way into the finest sinews beneath her skin. She grits her teeth and yanks her hand out of the mud with renewed vigor.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” Stelle shrieks, her fist slamming back into the muck with a wet splat.
Her breath comes out in angry puffs. She glares daggers at the unmoving figure behind her. They stop giggling, but the unsettling abyss of a smile never leaves their face. Stelle hasn’t moved, so it hasn’t stepped any closer either.
Don’t look them in the eyes. She reminds herself, and shifts her gaze back to the floor.
“Asshole,” Stelle rasps to herself, rolling her eyes.
Saying it’s a struggle to stand back up is the understatement of the Amber Era. Getting her hands out of there was one thing, but getting her knee unstuck was another. It had to at least be a couple inches down into the muck by now. The gunk stuck itself onto her until it caked into a disgusting layer of filth. She thought the rain would help, but it’s almost like the liquid falling from the sky only made the sludge stickier.
Of course it doesn’t wash it away. Of course this place wants her to be more miserable.
Maybe it’s more like quicksand? The more you struggle, the more you sink, so just… don't do that?
It’s a better plan than not having one at all.
She slowly yet deliberately drags her knee back and up at the same time. Her hands sink a little deeper, which is fine since they’re not as hard to get out. The rain splashes and splatters more of the gunk onto her, but it’s not enough to stop her. A soft pop resounds as her knee alongside the rest of her calf finally comes free, albeit covered in filth, but free. Stelle quickly yanks out her hands alongside it so she can get back to her feet.
Except Stelle doesn’t get back to her feet. She can barely find it within her to stay crouching low to the floor. Though her attempt worked, it sapped away way too much of her strength for her to be comfortable with. Maybe she needs a minute.
Or two. Or… three. Damn it.
It’s impossible to tell if she’s livid or if she just wants to cry. Not a single thing has been in her favor since she woke up in this hell of a prison. She’s alone, she’s soaking wet, she’s tired, and some copycat refuses to stop tormenting her every step.
She misses the Astral Express. She misses the kind and loving faces that always welcome her with open arms. She misses not having to worry if she’ll ever be able to do so much as see them again.
Stelle squeezes her eyes shut, forcing back tears of frustration. I just want to go home!
As if hearing her prayers, the rain suddenly… stops?
At least, she thought it stopped. However, she can hear the pitter-patter of the rain all around her. The only difference is that it’s no longer drenching her from overhead.
Stelle reopens her eyes and tilts her head up, only to see an umbrella with a faux mouth of black and red lined with white teeth positioned just above her.
“Sitting out here all alone in the rain?” A familiar yet so unfamiliar voice calls. Her tongue clicks a couple times before she continues. “My my, that’s not like you at all, little Graybird. ♭”
Evernight. She should’ve known the second she saw the umbrella held so daintily over her head.
“Why…” Stelle croaks, her voice hoarse. “Why are you… here?”
It’s never a good sign if Evernight is around. All it tells Stelle is that March isn’t here, and that something must have happened for her to appear in her girlfriend’s place.
“Don’t get yourself confused, my dear. I’m not here for you in particular,” She glances at Stelle, her expression unreadable. “I’m doing this for March 7th. She has been… inconsolable since you fell into this unconventional sleep of yours. I am simply doing her a favor, and consequently, I am also technically doing you a favor.”
There's something off about the way she speaks this time. Though she keeps her emotions guarded, the undertones of distant worry bleed through like it’s covered with paper. It’s odd, especially for her. Evernight doesn’t get worried. Especially not when it’s concerning Stelle.
March must be taking this really hard if it’s influencing Evernight to this degree. It’s the only guess that makes sense.
Then she thinks of March with puffy red eyes, sniveling and sobbing instead of bouncing around with her camera readily in hand. The last Stelle remembers was them very much so being in some sort of danger. Evernight said March was worried out of her mind, but that doesn’t really clue her in on much else.
“I know you said she’s kind of inconsolable, but is she… okay?”
Evernight chuckles, but Stelle doesn’t recall saying anything particularly funny. She even goes as far as reaching down with her free hand to brush a couple of soaked gray strands back off Stelle’s face. The action is painstakingly familiar in concept, but the silver nails and general carefreeness of it all makes it feel so foreign.
Maybe it’s pathetic to think about, but Stelle really, really misses March right about now.
“Your dedication to her rather than yourself in light of this news is very… admirable,” Evernight huffs in what Stelle believes is her own peculiar sense of amusement. “Physically, she is fine. The only thing weighing her down is you, or rather, the lack of you. My mistake.”
The original wording felt deliberate, but Stelle doesn’t possess the energy to argue. All she does is lower her head and shift her feet to get a little more comfortable. Evernight must have noticed if her subtle shift from an amused smile to a frown was anything to go by.
“You are not nearly as fun to tease when you don’t fight back,” Evernight sighs. “I believe that means it’s time to get rid of the other thing that ails you. Yes, yes, don’t think I didn’t notice the unpleasant presence meandering nearby. Once that is gone, I may have a way to get you out of here.”
Evernight points somewhere behind Stelle. She doesn’t need to turn her head to figure out what she was referring to. It was impossible not to know while the damn thing had its eyes boring holes into the back of her head. Stelle shuffles to face the same direction anyway, but keeps her attention on Evernight.
“If you can get rid of them,” Stelle rasps, “...be my guest. Can’t say that me and Miss Ego over there see eye to eye anyway.”
“As if I needed your permission.”
Something in the atmosphere abruptly shifts. Stelle tilts her head at Evernight, but the pink-haired woman isn’t looking at her anymore. She may as well be glaring daggers at the figure behind them.
The figure only smiles wider and holds out their arms to either side.
“Who did you invite, Akivili?” They speak in the same playful imitation of Stelle’s own voice. “Was I not offering enough? Was there not enough joy being shared between the two of us? Or perhaps…” it pauses to chuckle, “perhaps this one is a mere tresspasser. Perhaps you had no input on this one joining us at all.”
Evernight’s pupils narrow into deadly slits. “Chatty one now, aren’t they? ♭” She comments flatly. “Be a dear and hold this for me, will you? Before you ask, the rain cannot bother what doesn’t truly exist here,” she speaks to Stelle somewhat sweetly before depositing the umbrella into one of Stelle’s open hands.
“Akivili and I still have things to discuss. You are not welcome here, tresspasser.”
“As I was saying, you talk an awful lot for an apparition with no meaningful ties to this place. If you had any means to remove me yourself, you would’ve done so the moment I arrived. Need I remind you that the only one you can touch rests under my protection? I may be a shadow, but even I have my ways to walk this place with less restraints than you. ♭”
“Our business is not yet finished. Isn’t that right, Akivili? You and I have yet to experience the primordial joy together. We have not yet reached the end of our destination.”
Stelle instinctively grips the umbrella a little tighter. The distant pounding in her head brings forth a choked gasp. Something about their voice tugs and tugs at her consciousness no matter how hard she pulls the other way.
She’s not looking at them. She’s not looking at them. Why does it still hurt?
Do not respond to them. Evernight’s voice pierces through the cloudiness in her head. They will only lull your mind into further disarray the more you interact. Haven’t you noticed how the rain has eased since you ceased focusing on them?
Now that she mentions it, it really isn’t raining as hard as it was. It’s still raining, but it’s more of a light drizzle rather than a relentless downpour.
“I can sense your interference,” The red-eyed Stelle taps their foot against the ground. “Do you really think I’m going to let a trespasser take Akivili away from here? Away from me?”
Instead of immediately responding, Evernight just laughs. Unlike March 7th’s bubbly laugh, Evernight’s high-pitched giggle only fills Stelle with unease. Her fit of laughter eases, and Evernight only starts clicking her tongue again. “It’s cute that you think your words alone will deter me from breaking this one out of here, ♭” her face settles into something far more impassive. “Unfortunately, I refuse to stand around and mindlessly entertain such a cheap imitation.”
A cold snap practically splits the air in two. Stelle glances up in time to see a jellyfish materialise and slam directly into the red-eyed clone before she even has the chance to blink. It explodes into a red glistening flower of ice the moment it makes contact with their chest.
To their credit, the fake “Stelle” doesn’t stagger nor stumble for more than a couple steps. They stare down at their chest, watching as the crystalline flower blooms and spreads like an icy virus. Then their eerie red eyes slowly trail up, up. and up so impossibly slow. Dread pools in Stelle’s stomach as their gaze settles directly on her.
She shouldn’t have looked back. She shouldn’t have looked back, but she does.
A sharp pain shoots through the back of her head and her vision spins. Stelle has no choice but to cover her mouth to hold back a wretch. The other hand shakily holds the handle of Evernight’s umbrella with a white-knuckle grip.
Evernight angles herself to better cover Stelle, but not enough to entirely block her view. It does at least break the eye contact she had accidentally maintained. The action alone relieves her from the oncoming headache and the eventual downwards spiral she could’ve taken. She tries to give a curt nod in the smallest of a thank you, but Evernight doesn’t spare her more than a wayward glance.
“I don’t believe you understood my message the first time. Allow me to phrase this in a way even a fool could understand,” Evernight mocks and snaps her fingers once more. “Get out of my way. ♭”
The figure in front of them chokes as the ice blooms from inside the wound and outside her tormentor’s back. They raise a single finger at the pair, but it’s off. The entire “glove” melts and drips onto the floor beneath it as if it’s made of wax. Stelle can only watch in horror as the whole hand deteriorates and falls straight to the floor with a wet splat.
This time Stelle does actually get sick off to the side. Thankfully, it’s not like she has anything in her body to lose other than her own spit and whatever previous rain sludge managed to get in her mouth. Her throat burns from the bile, but at least she doesn’t have a bad taste left in her mouth. Stelle wipes off her lips with the back of her glove and focuses back on the mess in front of her.
Apparently, the rest of their body followed the same type of breakdown in the time she looked away. They reverted to more of an inky black form with parts breaking off and slithering away into nothingness like snakes. It felt less grotesque compared to watching the hand just… fall off. In fact, now it feels like less of a “death” and more of an illusion coming apart at the seams.
Then they’re gone without a trace. The sporadic pain nestled behind Stelle’s eyes dissipates along with it. It’s a little off seeing a messed up version of herself getting eviscerated like that by Evernight, but after all that time they spent following her, relief overshadows everything else.
No more Voracity, no hypnotic eyes of red, no gaping map to stretch and chase her into her realm of nightmares. Most importantly, no more “Ego”.
Good riddance.
“Thank you,” Stelle finally breathes.
“Hmm, right,” Evernight turns to face her. “Think nothing of it, my dear. Consider it my own thank you for taking such good care of my dearest March 7th whenever I cannot. Besides,” she crouches so they’re at eye level with each other. “I believe after Amphoreus, we are far from even, are we not? ♭”
Stelle hasn’t really been holding any sort of grudge against her. March forgave her, so the least Stelle could do was at least try to do the same. Besides, it’s not like she was ever overly hostile towards them anyway if her current dangerous display was anything to go by.
In all truthfulness, she didn’t know how much longer she could’ve kept evading “Ego” in this place without Evernight’s timely intervention.
“It’s cool, Evernight, really,” Stelle waves her off with a wobbly smile. “Believe me, you’re doing way more than you know by doing all this for me. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here or…” she swallows thickly, her throat suddenly dry, “how long it’s been out there.”
“Nearly three days, give or take. You’ve been bedridden since you fell unconscious within the Land of Sneering Gods,” she shrugs, getting back to her feet. Evernight doesn’t readily offer a hand to Stelle, but she does stay right next to her. “If I had known what you had been afflicted with sooner, I would’ve gotten you out at least a day ago.”
Almost three days. That meant at least two full days.
Stelle doesn’t have time to waste while the Phantasmoon Games are ongoing. There’s too much to lose if she’s stuck wandering this place for another day.
“Fuck,” Stelle swears, pressing a palm to her forehead before she attempts to stand. Her legs tremble, but Evernight offers an arm for her to hold onto once she’s on her feet. “Would I have been able to get out if I beat “Ego” by myself? Or… or if you didn’t come after me, would I just have been stuck here until someone else did?”
“I am… unsure. Even sharing a glance with them caused you to hurt, to writhe in anguish. I don’t imagine it would have ended well for you, or rather, anyone on the outside if that thing laid its hands upon you.”
“So… why you? Why did everything suddenly flip in my favor when you showed up? I know you warded them off, but how do you know they’re just… gone?” Stelle frets. “What if we try to leave, and I get sent right back here again in a day?”
“That won’t happen. I did my job, and I did it well. You will not be bothered by the likes of the Voracity again unless you decide to plunge back into its maw. ♭”
There’s an odd amount of certainty in Evernight’s tone that Stelle can’t help but cling to like a lifeline.
“How do you know though?”
“Do you think I bend to the confounds of other paths?” she muses, “I do as I please. I fear neither the Voracity, nor whatever path it is that surrounds your Stellaron. THEY cannot reach me here, thus, I will not let THEM reach you here anymore either. However, you will just have to trust me to free you the rest of the way. ♭”
“Trust you with what?”
Evernight remains silent for a moment, her eyes drifting to the side. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. It’s another rare moment where Evernight is nothing but hesitant.
“I can use the Oblivion to rid you of the last remnants of Voracity tainting your delicate equilibrium. That is your ticket to make sure this does not immediately happen again,” Evernight states, straight and to the point.
The Oblivion. The name of it alone brings forth a wave of nausea. It’s the same odd power Evernight wielded before. No one knows what all it’s capable of except for Evernight herself.
The last time she used it on Stelle, she was lost to the world for a thousand years.
…Can she trust her with it after that?
Stelle would trust March 7th without hesitation. She’d put her own life on the line if it meant heeding her word and making sure it followed through. The one she loves would never lead her astray even at the cost of her own wellbeing whether Stelle likes it or not.
Evernight though, is different.
There’s little to no way to know how much Evernight is bluffing nor how much she’s telling the truth. Vagueness comes and goes whenever she speaks, leaving no point in spending too long trying to decipher her words. She’d do anything to protect March, but where does she draw the line if it concerns Stelle?
Except… she’s out of options. It’s her way, or no way. March trusts her, so Stelle will have to do the same.
Anything to get Stelle back to them, to get back to her.
“Okay, then. I’ll trust you, Evernight,” Stelle dips her head. “Get me out of here, please. Just let me go home.” She can’t stop her voice from breaking as it trails off into nothing.
Evernight lets out a long, deliberate sigh. She’s not sure if it’s from relief or something else entirely. She gently grabs Stelle’s hands and holds them between them. If March’s hands are always cold, then Evernight’s hands just feel like pure ice though her gloves.
“For the record, this will be far kinder than it was before. We’re already in your mind, and we are no longer on any sort of opposing sides. I must ask before I do anything though… Are you ready?”
Is she?
Stelle shuts her eyes and thinks of everyone on the Express, thinks of March, and draws in a deep breath before slowly letting it go. She opens her eyes again with sudden steely resolve. “I’m ready. Let me see her, Evernight.”
Evernight finally smiles in a way that Stelle can almost find comforting. She dips into the smallest of a bow before looking at Stelle. “Then see her you shall. It’s been a pleasure, Stelle. ♭”
The way she says her name makes her feel like she’s speaking to nothing but a ghost.
“If you can call it that,” Stelle tries to joke through the rasp of her own voice.
She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for waves to wash over, but it never comes. Stelle cracks open an eye, only to see Evernight staring at her in a way that can only be described as melancholic.
“Ah, I’m sorry for the delay, but one moment please. Before we part, I do have one last favor to ask of you.”
“…What is it? Is something wrong?”
For some reason, Evernight chuckles. It’s far more controlled, far more human than anything she’s heard from her today. “Ease up, my dear. All I ask is for you to continue to care for March 7th in my stead, as I am unsure of when you will see me once more,” she murmurs, but there’s a sense of fondness that Stelle can’t quite place. “She cares for you far more than you’ll ever know. Cherish that, and cherish her. She chose you, so do not ever let her regret it.”
Her usage of “you” hangs heavily over Stelle’s head.
Bitterness mixed with longing the more Evernight spoke, but Stelle knows better than to comment on it. It’s the first time she’s personally seen her so vulnerable, and it’s hard telling if it’ll be the last.
It was one thing talking to Evernight’s echo back on the shores of Aedes Elysiae and another to be speaking to her like this face to face.
Her words leave a distant ache in Stelle’s own heart. She knows both her and March are in love with each other, but hearing it from March’s counterpart strikes an entirely different chord. She thinks of March 7th’s smiling face, her annoyed eye rolls, the tenderness of her love and affection any time they’re together.
It’s something she’d give her life to keep, over and over again even if it meant turning back time itself until there was nothing behind them anymore.
“I will, I promise.”
Evernight nods, seemingly satisfied as the ghost of a distant smile graces Stelle’s sight. “Then remember that when you wake, it will all already be over. ♭”
One second she’s gazing back into Evernight’s pools of scarlet, and the next, she sees nothing but that endless abyss once more.
“Until our paths cross again, little trailblazing Graybird. ♭”
Stelle doesn’t remember the last time she woke up feeling so… groggy.
It’s a struggle to lift her eyelids, let alone withstand the blinding lights positioned above her head. One of her hands refused to rise from the sheets. She managed to swing the other up to shield her eyes while they adjusted. A small plastic tube dangles a few inches in front of her squinted eyes. She huffs up at it to blow it away, but all it barely budges. She squints at it, only to realize that it was indeed attached to her forearm.
It’s… an IV? Stelle surmises.
She wiggles her arm for extra measure. A tug of discomfort shoots through it.
Yeah, okay. Makes sense.
If Evernight’s recap made any sense, she’s most likely in the closest thing the Express has to a medical car. There’s an IV stuck in her right forearm. If the constant rhythmic beeping behind her is any hint, she probably also has some sort of heart monitor patches on her chest. Oh well, at least she got to keep some sort of dignity by wearing one of her white tank tops and shorts instead of some stupid medical gown.
None of it explains the weight on her other hand though. There's also the unexplained weight pinning her down by her stomach.
Maybe they strapped me to the bed so I didn’t wake up and pull a Cocolia with my Stellaron.
She was only half-serious, but it still made her snicker quietly to herself. Realistically speaking, whatever was holding her down was a little too warm and really only limited to like half of her abdomen.
Her vision focuses so that the lights around her are less blobby and more… shapey.
Stelle attempts to turn her head. It’s a little difficult considering she’s only partially awake and her neck is stiff to all hell along with it. At least she can somewhat see whatever she focuses on now. Her gaze travels down, only for a familiar blob of pink to take over half her view.
March 7th had scooted a chair right next to Stelle’s bedside. Instead of sleeping in the chair, she chose to sprawl her torso across Stelle’s stomach. Dan Heng’s coat must’ve been serving as her makeshift blanket with the way it draped halfway off of March’s back and onto the floor. Stelle’s hand was tucked under March and clutched in her own while she snuggled into the crook of her opposing elbow. Her usually neat pink hair was unkempt and splayed out everywhere as if she hadn’t bothered to properly care for it.
Stelle couldn’t see her face except for one closed eye barely peeking around her elbow. There was a faint indication of a dark circle nestled beneath the visibly red and puffy part of her eye.
Evernight had warned her that March was already in a state of disarray. Seeing her that way, however, was an entirely different story. Her heart ached with an indescribable amount of longing plunging her heart deeper into her chest.
Stelle considered letting March sleep. She probably needed it, but letting her sleep through Stelle waking up might be worse. If it’s really been nearly three days since she fell unconscious, March might just kill her later for not waking her up. Besides, she’d do anything if it meant bringing back a touch of light to her beloved’s face.
“March?” Stelle calls softly. She winces at the scratchiness of her own voice. Considering that there’s an IV in her arm, she shouldn’t be all that surprised that her throat is all dry and crackly.
March doesn’t stir.
Stelle reaches and gently rustles her already messy hair. “Hey, March. Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Her girlfriend half-squeaks, half-groans. It’s a familiar sound that Stelle heard whenever she was trying to wake March up without an alarm. As if that was a sign, March sleepily lifts her head to rest her chin on top of her own elbow rather than inside it. Her eyes slowly flutter open afterward. She squints, her pupils hazily searching around until they land on Stelle’s face. A muted gasp echoes in Stelle’s ears over the quiet beep of the monitor behind the bed.
To Stelle’s despair, tears pool in her pink and blue eyes.
“…Stelle?” March whispers breathlessly. Clarity returns to her gaze almost instantly. “I’m not… this isn’t a dream this time, right? Am I... Am I actually awake?” She clutches Stelle’s like it’s an anchor. It’s impossible to ignore the way March increasingly trembles the more she wakes up. “Are you… here? Are you… you?”
“Morning, beautiful,” Stelle grins tiredly, but uses her thumb to tenderly wipe away a tear that was threatening to run down March’s cheek. “I’m back.”