"No…that's too much water…"
"No! It's not enough! Look, the gr-"
"No! It needs more sunlight!"
"Yes! We need to clear away all of the other trees around it and-"
"No. We need to let it grow."
Blinking, the girl stepped forward. Once. Twice. The five people in front of her, circled around a tiny tree, looked up suddenly. She couldn't make any of their faces out, for they were shadowy, and most of them looked away as soon as her eyes focused on them. The only one who did not, a blond woman in a simple sweater, stood up and gently walked forwards until she was right next to the girl.
The girl stepped back.
"Shh, shh…" The blond woman stepped forward one more step, her mouth curving upwards in the slightest. She motioned towards the tiny tree. Its spreading branches swayed slightly in the breeze, and the sick, brown leaves detached from the branches and drifted towards the vibrant jade grass. "How would you garden it?"
The girl opened her mouth, but the blond-haired woman only put a finger to the girl's lips. "No, shh. Quiet. Do not share with us; do the magic with your own hands. Weave life into the tree. Go on." Grasping the girl's hand gently, the woman lead her forwards to crouch next to the sickly tree. "Go on, touch the leaves. You won't break it, I know you won't."
The girl, with a shuddering breath, reached out her hand. Her fingertips skimmed over the air over the stem. There she traced it to the ground over the roots. With another deep breath, she gazed at it mournfully. Once again she opened her mouth, but the woman in the sweater interrupted the girl.
The girl leaned forward, her nose just barely an inch away. She exhaled softly. The plant rustled.
A branch snapped.
She curled up, an agonizing pain suddenly stabbing in her chest. The woman drew back, inhaling sharply, clutching at the space over her own heart. The girl's tears wet the grass below, and the tree seemed to shrivel and die a little more.
"I'm sorry," the woman murmured sadly.
Abagail's eyes fluttered open. She stared up at her ceiling fan. It whirred rhythmically, to and fro, in circles and circles, and she relaxed her vision so that the spinning blades melded into one shadowy disk. The sun hadn't risen yet; that was to be concluded by the way the very faint light filtered through her east-facing window. She rolled onto her side and hugged her downy pillow, closing her eyes as she took a deep, shuddering breath.
That dream. That was the tenth time, she knew, that she had dreamt it. Each time was a little different, though. This time it was the blond woman. Before that, one of the twins. Before that, the other. It repeated in an endless cycle, and the 5th and final gardener in her dream had finally talked to her for the second time. The woman reminded her strongly of someone she knew, but she couldn't quite make the connection to who she reminded her of.
The whole dream didn't make sense. None of it. It was all absolutely nonsense to her, but she knew it meant something.
With a groan, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and shoving on her gray newsboy's hat. There was no use in thinking about the dream. It was useless to her. She repeated that thought in her head as she hauled herself from her mattress on the carpet, switching on the light on her desk. She had more important things to do than sleep, she told herself. It didn't matter anyways.
Bending down, she opened her second drawer.
A little letter had been placed right next to her mechanical pencil.
She picked it up, gingerly pulling the paper envelope apart. As she sat in her chair, she read the letter, and despite the dream that confused and troubled her, she found herself grinning in amusement at the letter's contents. Then, bending down to swipe her mechanical pencil, she scribbled something on the paper, signed her name, and slipped it back in the drawer, taking her sketchbook out in case she wanted it. The slip of paper said to not peek in while 'Amethyst Dream' delivered it. She figured that she would humor herself and see if anything actually did happen.
So she turned to doodle on the paper.
When she looked back, a black case sat in the middle of her floor. Taking care not to wake her sleeping housemates, she crept over, knelt by it, and stared down at it with her hazel eyes. Obviously it was for her. So she traced her gnawed fingertips down the seam until it reached the hatch where the locking mechanism was place. She clicked it off. The crate's top swung open without even a creak, and, satisfied, she pulled the merchandise out of it.
The most beautiful, most lifelike doll she had ever seen was illuminated by her poor desk light.
Abagail held it up, blinking and peering closer to inspect it. The doll was is an intricate green dress, with locks of chocolate-colored hair that reached all the way to its ankles. It couldn't have been less than two feet tall. A small headdress was fastened over the top of its skull. Bangs licked down its face, brushed carefully to the side to make sure they didn't fall into her shut eyes. She brushed her fingers over its back, and then found, with a light sound of surprise, that there was a small, circular hole it the middle of where its shoulder blades should've been. She reached into the crate once again, and found what she assumed had to go into the notch. A key. Holding the doll delicately up to her chest and supporting it with her free hand, she slid the notch in and cranked it clockwise for several turns.
The doll twitched. Abagail held it so that she could see its-her -face. After several more twitches, in which Abagail had stood the doll up, holding its shoulders for support, the doll opened its eyes. Abagail stared in them with wonder-one green like her dress, the other a crimson red.
None of this surprised her.
Only when the doll slapped Abagail's hands away, blinked once again, and crossed her arms, Abagail yelped in shock.
"Well? Who woke me up, yes?" the doll said irritated, fixing Abagail with a glare. "And, and, and it's too dark in here, yes! I can't see!"
"Sh-sh-shhh," Abagail said shakily. "Please," she added when the doll's look turned from grumpy to clean out annoyed. "You'll wake my father. I'm Abagail. Uh….mind if I ask of your name?"
"Suiseiseki."
"Suiseiseki." Abagail had to say it a few times to embed it in her head. "Alright. Now…if you'll pardon me…." She stood, warily watching the doll, who was warily watching her, she plopped down on her desk and, quite suddenly, slammed her head against it. When she sat back up and looked over at the ground, the doll was still there. Again she smacked her head, and again the doll did not disappear.
"…..So I'm not crazy," she concluded thoughtfully.
"Y-Yes you are! What was that, yes?" Suiseiseki crossed her arms. "I'd say you're crazy, yes! You've never seen a moving doll before? Chibi-human had a lot of them, yes!" She nodded her head vigorously. "A-And….this place….it's not suited f-for my lifestyle! Who are you, thinking you could just wake me up like that, yes? In this place?"
"This place just happens to be my room, doll," Abagail said flatly. "And keep it down. If my dad hears you, he'll flip out."
Suiseiseki just sighed and shook her head, looking away. The human peered closer; was she hiding something? As Abagail stepped forward towards the doll, the girl that was two feet tall straightened, and a second later she was near her case. Behind it, in actuality, peering from the safety of a seemingly large box in the way.
Abagail sighed, sounding exasperated. "Alright. So…"
"So?"
"How can you talk?"
"I'm special, yes."
"I knew that, yes." Abagail gave another sigh before switching on the main light. Her room, a collection of jumbled trinkets on a collections of bookshelves, as illuminated. Suiseiseki looked curiously at the scraps of paper, T-shirts, and various things tacked to the walls. Then she looked down, sniffling a little.
"I wish Souseiseki was here," she said quietly. "And I'm hungry."
"Who?" Otherwise wordlessly, Abagail passed a box of cereal that had been on her deck to Suiseiseki, who took it gratefully. "Are they like you? With the….unique eyes, and the shortness?" A fleck of cereal made it into her eye, and she yelped, blinking it away. Suiseiseki held another at the ready. "No offense!" she added quietly. "I mean, I'm taller. The end. But, anyways, who are they?"
"My twin sister. She's gone," Suiseiseki said quietly. After a staring session with the carpet, she looked up into Abagail's eyes. "Have you heard of Rozen Maiden, yes? The dolls with souls, yes?"
"I haven't, no. I can't say I have," Abagail said.
"Look it up, yes. In one of your libraries."
"Harsh."
Suiseiseki winced a little, climbing into the crate once again and taking the key with her. "Well, you wound me up. Thank you, yes. Now, I'm going to sleep, and you're going to swear an oath of loyalty to me tomorrow, yes. You'll see, yes." She then, very suddenly, pulled the top of the crate down. It clicked shut. Abagail watched, exasperation all over her face.
Then, reminded of something, she went to check the drawer.