A/N: Was trying desperately to break free from writer's block. Never listen to ultra-soprano vocaloids and play Imperishable Night at the same time. If you don't know what I'm on about, here's the song that (vaguely) inspired this: (youtube link) /watch?v=0BgoVbRXvJw If I get enough feedback/inspiration I may continue poor Reisen's story, so please do review! :D
escape the princess
O frigid maid! Wherever thou mayst be
The princess shall possess thee.
"Begone. Useless rabbit."
With these words she flings the blazer away, in your general direction, as though the filth of the thing were burning through her ever youthful hands. She doesn't turn – she wants to be relieved of you as easily as she just relieved herself of your garment, of your intoxicating scent, and she will be. She had better.
You don't adjust your shirt half untucked or your tie half undone. You don't put your blazer on; it only trots docilely alongside you as you scurry away. You don't listen to the throbbing of your head, your arm, your ear, you don't see the blood fall over your eyes. Night of nights, on a night like any other, you run, your skinny little rabbit legs taking you only as fast as they dare, and but three words pervade this night –
Escape the princess.
O now thou must abandon all hope
For the Princess desires thy body and thy soul
I desire nothing but to have thee in my command
I want for no one else, so stay in the Princess' hand!
Once over the initial shock and fear of the moment, everything you do becomes sluggish and unfeeling. It's happened just about every night since God-knows-when, and it's almost a second nature to you now, so why tire yourself caring, or wondering why?
The first time, it had been a clumsy, impromptu solution. The second, you had not the time to think of another, and by the third, it had become routine. So now you know just about every nook and cranny of Eintei – but more importantly, every possible route from Kaguya's quarters to Eirin's, and every possible method of break-in. It's almost robotic, really, the way you edge silently past the slumbering medic and tiptoe over to the melonwood wardrobe in the corner, pull the door open carefully, and reach for the exact spot you know, by heart, an intricately hidden first aid box lies in wait for you.
This night, however, your only friend has left you alone to bleed to death by sunrise. You can feel yourself about to scream and wail and cry in all your desperation, you almost do, but are very rudely interrupted before you can.
"So this is what's been happening to all the emergency bandages."
You almost scream and wail and cry again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Your head whirls around swiftly, though not without an agonising headache in return for your efforts, to Eirin's bed, which you scan for its owner to no avail. Logic, then, leads you instead to turn your gaze in the other direction and upwards ever so slightly to meet the stern, yet somehow soft grey gaze of your master, whom, you find upon further investigation, is garbed only in a large, flimsy-looking dress shirt – one of yours, actually, that you distinctly remember her taking for reasons previously unknown before you could throw it away on account of its size – and holds in her hands the very thing you had been ready to tear your hair out in search of. Now, you muse wearily, punishment is due, and your chances of living till midnight are very slim indeed.
But contrary to what you had been expecting of her, the doctor gestures, and tells you almost resignedly to seat yourself. You're sure that as you do so your expression must clearly betray your surprise, but if it does, Eirin makes no comment.
Perhaps you will live, after all. Which leaves only one thing for you to decide, as expert hands brush your bangs aside and set to work putting you out of some amount of misery – whether or not that's something to be glad of.
Thy first moan shall greatly delight
Thy twisted face shall be a beauteous sight.
"I adore you."
Her trembling voice echoes around the whole room, bouncing back and forth against the walls, and ricocheting in a similar fashion around the boundaries of your once firm, level-headed, now slowly crumbling mind. You see your own eyes in hers as she moves closer, closer, as her scarlet-painted nails trail across your nape – and you know this is all your fault, for though you never imagined it would be like this, it was your eyes that had first driven the Princess insane. Those pools, red, like blood, stare hopelessly back at you with such mingled pains as are kaleidoscopic to sight, and they tell you desperately as the distance between you and her becomes tangible that it doesn't matter who's fault it is – run!
"Princess."
This sudden save makes you almost jump out of your skin in both joyous relief and surprise. The perpetrator's twisted, even angry expression becomes visible as Kaguya is forced to back away, and you can't help but smile.
"Yes," the Princess clears her throat, "Eirin?"
The doctor doesn't glance at her mistress even once as she speaks. She's quite intent on looking at you, actually.
"I need Udonge on a matter of urgent business. We're to pay Alice Margatroid a visit this instant – Kirisame flew directly from the Forest of Magic to call upon us."
"Don't you mean to call upon you, Eirin?" the menacing tone she takes against her own loyal servant is enough to bring one to a fit of fearful tears, even despite not being the target of her resentment.
"A doctor is nothing without her assistant," is the genius' simple, collected reply.
Kaguya seems to consider – to, almost, mull it over a little, before waving a hand dismissively, and turning away.
"Very well then, if the Margatroid girl must live, I suppose you ought to be on your way."
You scramble to your feet quickly, finding it quite hard to totally contain your excitement at being of some actual assistance to someone else, and not doomed to be loved in the most sickening of manners. But before you take your leave with your master, the Princess shoots you a glare, and lets you know that your fate upon returning will be far worse than it could have been had you stayed and had it over with now, and with your footsteps in the lunatic's ears your exuberance completely fades away.
Is that really the moon, shining through the darkness of the night?
It's her glaring eyes, through the darkness of the night.
Your visit to the doll maker's residence turns out to have more meaning to it than you ever thought it would, or even could. The initial reason you and Eirin drop by isn't unusual – all Margatroid had done was break her arm climbing a tree (or something to that effect) on one of Kirisame's usual bizarre escapades, something to which the black-white had only overreacted to out of guilt when she had arrived panting at the doctor's doorstep, but wasn't actually quite as terrible as she had made out. Eirin takes the opportunity, then, to bring along Alice's monthly prescription of sleeping pills, killing two birds with one stone. And while being generally frigid in manner and antisocial as a whole, the puppeteer isn't at all heartless, and she proves this when she invites you and your master both to stay for a cup of tea and smiles gratefully.
But the Princess' threat has made you incurably restless. You excuse yourself to wander around the cottage and satisfy your hunger for movement and rhythm and happening, and you stumble across a book, right beneath your feet. Part of you considers leaving it and walking on, but the rest of you has the consideration to put it atop the tabletop, and push she who wants you to open the thing into the very back of your mind. Not that she would have been satisfied, anyway – with a curious glance at the thing you notice its being held together by two ribbons, bound across it almost as though it were a gift, and a simple, unwelcoming padlock.
"Reisen?"
At the sight of your hand, only grazing, but still visibly touching her grimoire, Alice pales. She approaches slowly, almost cautiously, but you pull your hand back to intertwine it, behind your back, with your other, and she immediately relaxes, as do you.
Still, neither of you know quite what to say.
"Miss Margatroid," you breathe at last, earning an absent hum of acknowledgement from the latter, "you're not from Gensokyo, are you?"
"No," Alice replies gingerly, crossing her arms lazily as though she has had to say so one time too many. "As I'm sure I have Aya to thank, it is now common knowledge that I grew up in Makai."
"Makai?" You're quite shocked, really. "I didn't know you were a demon, Miss Margatroid."
She laughs, though not mockingly, and suddenly you feel embarrassed for assuming so – although, what else is there to assume? "While I suppose you could call me that now," she says, "I wasn't always."
Your raised eyebrow and curious murmur of "oh?" prompt her to explain, though she does so briefly, "I was once a human," and has no more to say on that subject. You change the subject, then, if only slightly.
"Did you run away?"
It's almost ironic how taken aback she is by the question, when the answer turns out to be yes.
"I... suppose you could say that," she mutters. You nod, and she seems ready to put that aside, but then suddenly blurts, "Why?"
Looking her up and down – her arm, in a cast for all her efforts to make her childish neighbour smile, her eyes, with the weariness of one a thousand times her age, atop a pair of dark bags that prove her restlessness a severe case – you just can't bring yourself to lie. Not while maintaining eye contact, anyway.
"No reason, Miss Margatroid," you whisper weakly.
An uncomfortable sort of silence falls between the two of you, but Alice is quick to break it.
"Whatever it is you have to endure, Reisen, endure it with someone by your side," she says, peering across the hallway at a doctor and a witch, both chattering idly. "Running away is... not all it's cracked up to be."
You glance briefly at the object of her gaze, then turn to look into the puppeteer's eyes again – and suddenly, you see it all. Years of trial, error, calculation and recalculation, during which not even a moment's quiet is ever really a moment's peace. A constant internal battle, stomach churning and twisting painfully, always plagued by thoughts, what ifs, regrets, wishes, secrets, and above all else, the desire for company to numb it all. In fifty years, the black-white will be dead, but Alice will be alive for another thousand.
"I'll be sure to make a social call upon you later this week, Miss Margatroid."
And the recollection of that almost childish sense of fulfilled hope in her cool blue eyes is enough to make you have to cry yourself to sleep when you get home.
Run! Run! Soon the day will break
Cast the headgears and combs aside
Surrounded by flickering firelights
Come, keep silent and escape from this place!
For a week or so Alice's advice is a comfort, but it isn't long before you finally lose it, and leave for Kaguya in your place the shards of what was once a mirror, torn papers, and broken furniture. Usually you're not one to act so rashly, but proof of the sheer misery that has been cultivating in your breast all this time is quite evident, in what was more rash an action than anyone not so polite and collected as yourself could have ever taken. Your knuckles won't stop bleeding and your shins won't stop aching, and now, you regret it all deeply.
There's a reason they call this place the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, you ponder, weaving tactfully in and out of bamboos thin and thick, and this is exactly it. Though you have the willpower to remain calm, breathing steadily, and the sense to keep moving, you have to admit at least to yourself you have absolutely no idea where in the world you're headed. The human and the hakutaku are bound to jump you at any time.
And – shit, speak of the devil – someone does jump you at that exact moment. Or something to that effect, anyway; it all happens so quickly you're not really sure how they came upon you but suddenly they trap you from behind, lock an arm around your waist and slap a hand over your mouth. All you can see of her are bare arms and calloused hands, so you have no idea who it is until she can be sure you've stopped resisting.
"Reisen, it's me."
The voice is unmistakable, but the way she addresses you by your name and not the strange sobriquet she usually does has you doubt yourself completely.
"It's me," she assures, "Eirin."
You relax completely, and negative sensation numbs. In response, her hold on you loosens enough for you to turn and face her, but not enough to let you move away and have to talk above a whisper.
"You should have told me you were leaving." Her tone doesn't imply she's at all angry at you. Rather, it betrays a sort of sadness and disappointment, and your heart wrenches painfully.
"I'm sorry, I cracked."
"It's okay," she sighs, though the sentiment is genuine, "it's just that you haven't planned far enough ahead, have you?"
You can't help but blush at this. No one else would have expected this of you, but apparently Eirin knows you best – knows that being level-headed on the outside and constantly keeping everyone in check leaves you tired and fragile, a walking disaster. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."
"I knew you would have to come this way, so I sought somewhere for you to stay."
At your totally shell-shocked expression, she laughs quietly.
"I know I'm hard on you, but really, I lo–" she falters, "you're a good girl, Reisen. Now, I found no one could better keep you safe from the Princess than her rival, so if you keep north," she gestures in that direction, "you should meet Kamishirasawa before the end of the forest. She'll take you to Fujiwara no Mokou, and you'll be staying with them until you can find residence of your own, okay?"
At that moment, suddenly, it dawns upon you all at once. You're free of the Princess' chokehold, but that has come at an agonising price – you are never to see those with whom you have lived and loved on Earth these thirty years ever again, least not anywhere near as frequently or without secrecy as you could before. You're not going to wake to one of Tewi's new, innovative methods of getting you out of bed tomorrow, or follow the smell of Eirin's cooking bacon and eggs to the kitchen, or receive both a hug from the former and an affectionate pat on the head from the latter in silent 'good morning' as you always do. The same way you left your loved ones on the moon, turning from a soldier to a nurse, you're leaving your loved ones at Eintei to live with Mokou and Keine, and are no longer a soldier or a nurse but nothing at all of any worth.
Suddenly it feels very cold, and you melt deeper into Eirin's embrace.
"What are you going to tell Tewi?" is all you can muster up.
"The truth," she responds, instantly.
"She's too young."
"So are you."
Deeper, still. And you would go deeper if you could, as deep as possible, and forever deeper till you die – but alas, you both know that time is scarce, and Eirin sighs. She shifts slightly, but then you feel her tremble, hesitate, try to stop herself – and finally she places a chaste kiss to your forehead.
"I'm going to miss you, Reisen."
Any embarrassment you might have felt at this exchange in any other circumstance is irrelevant. You return the gesture, almost desperately, and press your lips softly against her neck.
"And I you."
You don't listen to the throbbing of your knuckles, your feet, your heart; you aren't aware of any tears that might be flooding your vision. Night of nights, on a night like any other, you run, your skinny little rabbit legs taking you only as fast as they dare, and but three words pervade this night –
Escape the princess.