I suck at naming things. I've had this lying around a while. Been thinking about expanding the story, but I probably won't. It'll just be oneshots cause I'm bad like that.
Bright days were her favourite. With the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky, the rooftops glistened in a pastel rainbow and the river glinted as it meandered sluggishly around the city. Everything seemed to meld together and sitting in the shade of her gardens as a breeze whispered through the floss leaves was gloriously refreshing. The sun was big and warm and smiling, much like a guardian of the realm. It was reassuring and she loved it.
Or she did.
Recently, a silhouette had begun to occupy her window, lit from behind by a waxing moon, just a sliver, a finely sliced almond flake. Tendrils of inky darkness coiled about the shape that tried so hard not to be seen and was unsuccessful. There was no warmth in the moon, no smile, no feeling of protection. But that didn't stop her from anticipating every evening with a curiously weighted heart.
The shape never entered, never did anything, just sat on the balcony rail and watched through the window. Sometimes it sat there all night, sometimes it remained only fleeting moments, but it appeared every single night. Without fail. She never saw a face, never heard a sound, there was simply a blot on the glass in her window with the rough form of a person. A person with an awful lot of hair.
Occasionally, she thought the wan light glittered off eyes glowing red, like torchlight, penetrating the darkness. It was a decidedly uncomfortable thought. Almost menacing and it more than explained the lump in her throat, the shiver crawling along her spine. But there were other things, inexplicable ones, the kind her mind had trouble accepting. The kind she shoved aside for later analysis despite fervent, silent promises to let sleeping dogs lie.
This night was different, it was late and she was distracted, pulled from her usual routine. Sitting in the gardens at an iron-wrought table with a microscope that was only the teensiest bit unfocused, she was peering through the lens, completely unable to discern what she was after. But despite her dragging eyelids, she refused to put it off until the morning. This particular fungi found in the sewers only responded to darkness and had the briefest of life spans. It was now or never.
So engrossed was she in her fruitless studies, she missed the shadow that slipped over the garden wall and rested at the base of a tree not far away. At least, it took her longer than she would like to admit. The back of her neck prickled, like she was being watched and as she looked up to glance about furtively, she saw the two red eyes staring at her. They danced in the soft light, almost like a cat's eyes. Or a bat.
The shadow moved as if it were uncomfortable being seen so close up. It twisted, streams of midnight hair flowing around it, completely ignoring the rules of gravity that bound everything else. It appeared the shadow was leaving and Bubblegum was struck by a feeling of sadness so abrupt and incomprehensible that she stood, her chair clattering over to the pavement behind her.
"Wait," she gasped and the shadow froze. The still glittering eyes were averted, but Bubblegum thought she detected a hint of remorse… guilt? Sorrow? Something was filling that crimson gaze, something she couldn't decipher and that didn't happen often.
Carefully, worried she'd spook the… whatever it was, she stepped towards the shape. It tensed visibly as she approached. Floated a little off to one side, up, across, it wanted to leave, clearly. Bubblegum kept going, slowly, one foot, then the next, but the shadow apparently didn't want her to get too close. It rose away from the ground and she reached out desperately, determined to know what this spectre was, and wound her hands into the hair. It occurred to her as she did so that it might not actually be hair. What if it was something more sinister? Something harmful? But no, it was hair, darker than the blackest of nights and soft… or rough? Both, perhaps, in an odd paradoxical fashion?
The shadow jerked to a stop and turned. Blood eyes fixed on her face and Bubblegum swallowed. This creature could see into her soul, discern her nature, read her mind. It was all knowing and dangerous. And it didn't like being touched.
Bubblegum's hands whipped away from the hair like she'd been burned. "Why do you sit outside my window every night?" she blurted, hoping to keep the shadow where it was. Prevent it from fleeing. So many questions tumbled about in her head, what is it, where was it from, what did it want? So many things. Why had she asked that one?
The eyes tilted to one side and the shape drifted closer imperceptibly. It wasn't until it was right in front of her that Bubblegum realised it had moved at all. The moon was still casting the face of the creature in darkness, she couldn't make out any features, yet she squinted just the same.
"You're not afraid of me." The voice was surprising. Like tinkling bells, laughter, water in a brook… it was musical and gentle. It completely defied the malevolence that seemed to rest in the eyes. It also wasn't a question and it sounded distinctly female.
"No," Bubblegum replied, trying to sound braver than she felt. There was only the tiniest of wavers in her voice and the creature definitely picked up on it. Something in the shadow stretched and a soft white patch appeared, pointed and dully reflecting the moonlight. Fangs.
"You should be."
She swallowed, refusing to be cowed. Showing fear would only encourage the creature. "Well. I'm not. You've sat on my railing every night for weeks. If you wanted to hurt me you could have already."
The creature laughed and a shiver ran up Bubblegum's spine. It wasn't malicious; it was almost… childlike, pure and bright. "You have a point, Glasses," she said through her laughing. "But maybe I'm just biding my time. Letting you get familiar with me hanging around before I pounce. Eh, Glasses? Did your big brain think of that?"
Bubblegum fumed silently. Glasses? Glasses? What… how dare this creature call her that? The nerve. "My name isn't 'Glasses'," she huffed. "And how do you know I have a big brain?"
The red eyes flashed. "You do… sciencey things. That means you have a big brain." It sounded like a joke but Bubblegum wasn't currently in the mood to appreciate it. "But if you don't like 'Glasses', you could always tell me your name, princess." Again that grin shimmered in the dark.
Bubblegum thought about that. The creature seemed to know an awful lot about her already. How did she not know her name? She decided to be careful and took a step around the creature, slowly, forcing her to turn. Grey skin was visible now and the further they circled, the stranger her guest appeared. The shapeless appearance was due entirely to the incredible mass of hair; the creature herself was slender, tall and pale. Smiling teasingly, fangs peeking over her lower lip, eyes shining; she was quite pretty. A vampire. She shivered again.
"What's your name?" Bubblegum countered finally in a soft tone, her voice catching in her throat.
The vampire chuckled. "Getting a bit ahead of yourself, ain't you, Glasses?" She leaned down, her ruby gaze mesmerising. "I did ask you first."
"Why should I tell you?" she murmured almost inaudibly.
"I'll just have to keep calling you Glasses then." The vampire lolled back and Bubblegum realised she was floating, knees drawn up slightly, heels not even touching the grass. "How does that sound, brainiac?"
She couldn't contain it anymore. Glasses? Brainiac? What next? "My name is not Brainiac," she snapped. "And it's not Glasses either. It's Bonnibel alright? Bonnibel Bubblegum. Use it."
The vampire still hadn't stopped smiling. "Cool, thanks Bonnie." Bubblegum's eyes widened. Another nickname? Did this insufferable woman know no bounds?
"Bonnibel," she reiterated firmly.
"Yeah, Bonnie," the vampire replied offhandedly. "Heard you the first time. I'm not deaf."
Bubblegum sighed, nothing she said would make the vampire call her what she wanted, so she might as well stop trying. It was like trying to move a mountain: pointless. "Then what do I call you? Pasty?"
The vampire positively burst out cackling, rolling over in the air to wrap her arms around her middle. "Now that…" she said, righting herself and forcing down the bubbling laughter. "That is awesome. You have a sense of humour after all, eh Bonnie? Cool." She stuck out one pale hand and wiggled her fingers. "Marceline," she said. "But Pasty works if you want."
Bubblegum eyed the hand dubiously. She wasn't sure what would happen if she took that hand. What kind of variables were involved in this? Would she regret it later?
She took the hand.
Bubblegum liked sunny days, warm, smiling with a breeze whispering through her garden. Or she did. Now… the sun was ok, it was alright, yeah. But she had a friend who only visited in the depths of the night. A friend who taught her about other things to enjoy, soft haunting melodies and raging riffs. A friend who took her to the sky and showed her the land in a quilted blanket by moonlight. The sun was ok, sure. The night was better.