Title: static
Prompt: Prompt 11—The Cellar
A/N: A companion piece to flickering
Summary: Alice, Alice, Alice. When did that turn into Jack, Jack Jack?
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"Alyss?" Alice asks, watching the abyss as it sits nearby. It doesn't do much nowadays, doesn't really react when Alice comes near it. Where once it would happily run around their playpen, letting Alice chase it to her heart's content, it now just lays there listlessly when Alice is inside. "You there?"
There's no answer, as usual. The new usual. There was a time when her sister would answer immediately, when there was no need to call because they were always listening to each other.
Something's changed, and she doesn't know what.
"Alyss?" she repeats. It's strange, being so cut off from her twin, her other. The core bubbles nearby, echoing her cries, and Alice stares at it.
It has always been attached to her sister, more so than herself. That isn't new.
What is new is just how much the degree has changed. The depth of the connection. Alyss spends almost all her time inside now, only coming out when Jack calls her. She used to love the night, the quiet of the evening and the gentle glow of the stars.
It reminds me of the abyss, she said once. Only it's more alive.
Around her, Alice can see the abyss twinkling but it's nothing like a starry night. Not anymore. It was like staring at the sun once, so bright and blinding. But warm, always warm. Now Alice can see only a void, the space between things. A creeping coldness nipping at her fingers and toes.
It's winter now. Summer is long gone and she can feel the stark difference.
Alyss has always been more connected here. Alyss who always let Alice stay outside whenever she wanted.
Just how is Alyss feeling?
"Alyss," she tries again, worried now. "Please answer."
There's nothing, not even an echo. Desperately, she calls out again, trying to reach her sister.
(And the core, the core does nothing, the core watches and waits and no, she should have noticed this change, should have realized it before. Her sister and the core, they've always been close.)
A single cry replies finally. In the dead silence, Alice can hear a single plea for help. Help, Alyss asks. Jack.
Alice is already in motion, ready to switch her sister back. Of course it is Jack. She should have known better than to let that man near her sister—Oswald had mentioned slight distrust in the man.
She should have believed in that. In her uncle and his thoughts. In her own intuition and feelings, for Jack has always rubbed off on her wrong.
Alice should have known but it isn't too late. There's still time to change this, to fix it. To save her sister and the core and the Abyss from this cancer that infects it. This can all be repaired.
She can do it. She knows she can.