What an Idiot

This will be tremendously short. I realize I've been gone, so this is to tide you guys over.

xxx

Falling...falling...falling...all she ever seems to do is fall. She climbs and climbs, ascending the rickety, splintering ladder staked in a field ravaged by trials, tribulations, grief, and hardships. Her father abandoning, her mother passing away, the curse that regressed her to her child form, leaving her friends in the human world - it was all at the foot of that ladder, waiting to swallow her up again. And those grievances always seem to increase at the shortest of moments. She gets higher every day that she attempts to move on with her life. She finds new adventures, new interests, discovers the wonders of potions, dabbles in art from time to time, took an interest in technology. She got the most wonderful boyfriend, befriended the most amazing people, conquered her nightmares, braved her past, took on two psychopaths and saved a world of forgotten cartoon characters. How can someone not be reborn as an all new person from this? For crying out loud, Cecelia felt like she was reincarnated as a someone else entirely after all of that. The friends she's made since then, the good times she's had with her grandfather, all of these new paths paving before her - the ladder she climbed was rejuvenating itself with each prong she climbed, letting her fingers at least brush the rays of light awaiting her past that fog. It was right there. She could have spat on it. She could feel the warmth tickling her fingertips. And right there...as she felt a single ray touch her face...the prongs at her hands and feet just shattered. Her body was weightless, the world tilting on its axis. The disbelief that shrouded her sparkling eyes just died on the spot, ripping the vibrancy of the red clear out. Her skin went pale as the frigid air of the darkness wafted to her skin. In despair she reached out for something - anything - to save her from this fall. There was nothing. A toxic miasma coiled to her arm, pulling it far from any sort of salvation. Venomous tentacles reaching from that abyss wrapped to her whole body to drag her back to where she belonged. And this time...she would never come out.

This was it. She resigned herself to her fate. Letting the full weight of gravity take her beneath the fog. She tried her hardest to climb back up the cliff. To reach the ledge that would pave the path to her revenge. Prescott...he betrayed her. Played her for a fool with the very love they swore to one another all of a year ago. Just like her father. Unconditional love from every corner of his heart bequeathed to the one girl more precious to him than all the riches of the world. If those riches were corroded, fading, and becoming brittle. They both cast her aside, reduced her to meaning nothing to them. And they are both going to let her fall to her lowest, and hit the floor of that chasm where she will shatter, and never recover. Maybe she can conjure a gust of wind to save her. Or maybe create an elastic band to bungee her. There's something somewhere in both her head and book that she can use to save herself. But...why bother? Why save herself? What's left for her except for pain? She might as well just lie there, and wait for the inevitable impact.

"GOTCHA!" Arms from the breath of nowhere swooped under her knees and at her back. The sudden jerk and cold air gusting to her face broke her from her resigned stage, shocking her back to life and in the arms of Oswald. "I've got you, Cecelia!" The Lucky Rabbit howled, his little ears spinning at top speed.

"Oswald?!" She screamed. This wasn't a dream, or a hallucination. Oswald saved her! Where did he come from?! How did he find her?! Before Cecelia had a chance to ask him the hows and whens, she heard something snap from above them. "LOOK OUT!" A giant Christmas bulb broke from the floatyard, smacking Oswald square in the face. Was more like a bowling ball than a bulb. He was sent hurtling backwards, Cecelia being flung right out of his arms. She clawed at the air desperately, steadying herself as she flipped out of control. Her stomach smashed to the cliff ledge, the wind robbed from her lungs burned with a fire. She clawed at the dirt, tiny grooves dug in the dirt as she slid. She was furiously paddling her her feet into the cliff side, wiggling her body to gain ground. The earth worked against her, sliding her to her fifth fall of the day.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Two pairs of hands latched to each of hers, her slide was stopped. She gasped in shock, meeting the strained winces of a gremlin and mouse lying on their stomachs.

"Mickey?! Gus?!" She cried. Where the Hell do these guys come from at the last second?!

"Hold on!" Mickey bent a knee under him, gaining some traction.

"Pull her up!" Gus fluttered his feet like the wind, pulling with all his might. Cecelia managed to break through her amazement and dug in her shoes, climbing up with them. She slid part of the way, then stumbled as her feet finally made it to solid ground. She let them drag her 20 feet from that blasted ledge, then she and the boys fell to the dirt, their chests rising and falling in labored wind. "OH GOSH! OH MY!" Gus wheezed.

"We got her!" Mickey's shout echoed. Amazing he could scream with how winded he was.

Oswald flew from the fig covered cavern, rubbing his sore face. He was right. It was a bowling ball decorated like a Christmas ornament. Never mind that now. He flew down to Cecelia, fumbling onto his hands and knees beside her. She wasn't able to yelp he grabbed her in a fierce hug so fast. He smothered her, squeezing her so tight to assure himself that they caught up to her. "There you are! You're okay! We made it!" He roughly ran his hand down her back, almost in tears he was so happy. That was too close. Had they been another second too late...he doesn't want to think about it. He...he wouldn't have been able to apologize. "Cecelia...I'm so sorry! For everything! Being late, Prescott, all of it!" He was in such a state he was blathering, wanting to get it all out before he lost his chance. Gus and Mickey didn't stop him. If they had the energy they'd be doing the samething. "I'm so sorry, Cecelia. I really am."

Cecelia gradually relaxed her body and mind, grasping that she was on solid ground...she was safe. She was among friends, her soul was bought another day longer in the mortal coil, and...her ladder fall was only...halfway. "Oz...Mick...Gus…" She had to say their names one more time, wrapping her own arms around Oswald in order to solidly confirm that the danger was past. She was happy. She truly was. And yet...her face was frozen in disbelief. Her eyes felt dry. She...was numb. How did...how did you guys find me?"

"Ian got us here through some shortcuts." Mickey answered her. Those secret areas in the Fort and Train Diorama are pretty convenient. Gotta love how engineers and construction workers make hacks for themselves. Cecelia really needs to thank Ian later. The guy is amazing. Oswald pulled himself back, letting the girl breathe. When they all managed to get in a moment, gasps of dismay erupted from the three boys. Their horrified stares just glued on her. Cecelia was baffled by what they were staring at and took a good look at herself. She was taken aback. She was a mess. "Man...what-" Mickey inspected her. Her torn clothing showed darkening bruises all up and down her tiny body, superficial grazes riddled with dirt on her face, palms, and knees. Her hands were married from her climb. Scorch Marks on her clothing were still hot. Even her white hair was riddled with filth.

"Cecelia…?" Gus moved in close, cupping a hand under her chin. Her bruises and cuts were already swelling. He's shocked nothing on her is broken. And neither he nor the other two are going to pretend they didn't notice the mess on the way into the Floatyard. Looked like someone shot off a bunch of cannons strapped with fireworks and then went at the rest with flamethrowers and a dozen lightning infused rods. "Did...I mean...haa…" Gus put a hand over his face, shaking his head. He wants to be delicate about this...but their time has run out. He put his hands to her shoulders, starling with her with a serious leer. "What happened, Cecelia?" Though he already knew the answer.

Cecelia's glossy eyes widened, and she dropped her head. "I taught him everything…" She mumbled raspily, overcome with defeat. "Everything...he would need...to be successful." Her nails dug in the dirt, her blood boiling of the top and freezing as it spilled. She wasn't as numb as she thought. Just in shock. "He wanted to learn...just as I wanted to learn…" She wanted to be part of his world and absorb his knowledge. Tears she thought dried up got soaked into the garbage soil. Cecelia's body was trembling. "I was...so happy...to have someone like that. Who I can share this with…and who could share with me!" The rage was tearing her body into ribbons. Tears she wished to hold back were spilling without signs of end. "I've never had someone like that! Ever! I didn't want to lose it!" Mickey, Gus, and Oswald, though already aware of what they would discover, grieved that they were right...and that Cecelia had to suffer for it. "I was happy...I was so happy...and not for a second did I see what was really going on right in front of me!" That isn't true. Deep down she knows it is. She saw the signs. It was all right there. She just chose to ignore to spare herself further pain. Didn't work out so well.

Oswald placed a hand to her head, sliding it to her cheek. "I'm...I'm so sorry. Truly I am."

"Why? You were right the whole time." She replied with a voice void of any emotion. She removed his hand, edging herself away from their warm circle, resigning herself to frigid solitude. "Prescott stole my magic, he sabotaged the projectors, he played everyone - even me - for days." He looked them - HER - straight in the eye and LIED. He led them on wild goose chases so h could bring his evil plans to fruition. The evidence stared her in the face countless times - it even threw itself at her with how odd he's been behaving, and all of these projects he seems to hide from everyone. Still she went on like nothing was amiss. She had nothing left in her except a scathing snicker. She glanced to Oswald with empty eyes, making his skin crawl in sorrow. "Guess your doctor really is a changed man."

"Cecelia...no…" This isn't what Oswald wanted. Not at all. Cecelia's knees knocked together as she forced herself to stand. Her muscles felt like noodles from her falls. She's going to feel this tomorrow. For now...as she turned on her heels...she would feel nothing else on her jaunt back. "Cecelia, wait! Where are you going?"

She stopped mid stride. "Somewhere I won't be a burden." She moaned. "Prescott has my magic. I'm nothing without it. And I can't beat him without it. I'll...I'll just be in the way." She sank.

Mickey, Gus, and Oswald could not believe what they just heard. Cecelia continued on her way again. "WHAT?! Hold up!" Mickey slid in her path, arms spread to stop her from escaping. "You're giving up?! What is this?! Did Prescott steal your spirit too?!" Cecelia preferred not to answer that. "Your ex-boyfriend has your powers, is probably going to hurt someone with them, and you're going to just pack up and leave?!" Does he need to express in words how angry he is with her right now.

"You guys are here. Wasteland will be fine. It doesn't need me." She sighed heavily, trying to walk around him.

"Yes it does, and so do we!" Mickey stepped in her way again. "Don't you remember how you inspired us all to face our fears when The Blot was in control? Or how, no matter how harrowing the odds, you kept everyone's hope alive and re-ignited their will to fight?" She vaguely recalls. She doesn't really remember the day, let alone last year at the moment. "You had your magic stolen before, your nightmares turned against you - why would you give up now if you didn't then?"

"Because, Mickey, it's a whole other ball game when your heart is stomped into nothing." She groaned. There's nothing left in her. No fire, no determination - she just wants to fade into nothingness. "My Dad, Prescott - both swore to the moon and back that they loved me. And yet it was so easy for them to turn on me." It's always been simple for people to turn on her. To break her until she was completely decimated. "Wasteland would be safe right now if I had just paid attention. If I was a better judge of character. That being said," She put a hand to his shoulder to move him out of the way, "I don't deserve to save Wasteland this time." She was going to leave. That was that.

"Is that your only reason?!" Mickey stopped her again with a grab at her wrist. This was getting old. "Cecelia, you messed up! What defines you now is how you make up for it!" What defines her? That's a good one. Screw up seems to fit. "Prescott's powerful now. Big deal! You're smarter than he is when it comes to your powers! You're smarter than all of us in general!" He placed his other hand to her shoulder, coming in close. "We started this journey together. Let's finish it together."

And she'd love nothing more than to see this to the end. To bring Prescott's schemes crashing down around him. There's just one problem. She can't bring herself to meet with Prescott. Not now. Not after everything that has happened. "I'm sorry, Mickey." She shook him off her once more, this time bolting into a run. "You'll have to finish this without me!"

"Cecelia, come back!" Mickey was going to chase he down.

"No, let her go!" Oswald stopped him. And Cecelia was gone.

"But she-"

"She's not sad, Mick. She's broken." Oswald stopped him. This isn't as simple as her being sad. This is more complicated. "Trying to talk her into coming back will only make it worse."

"But we need her. We don't stand a chance against Prescott without her." Mickey implored him.

"And she knows that. Trust me. She'll be back for us."

"How are you so sure?"

Oswald gazed to where Cecelia disappeared, a soft smile creeping to his lips. "Because I would." And those were his final words as he meandered in the direction of their...enemy. Gus and Mickey didn't like just taking off after Prescott. They wanted to go get Cecelia. Then again, the last time they tried consoling her after a trauma she vanished in a puff of smoke and hid from them. This might be what she needs.

xxx

She was running...running away again. Sheh ad to get far away from them. Far away from HIM! She can't take this anymore. Her little legs numb with icy hotness as they fought to keep going. Her heart pumping to the brink of bursting. She wants to get far way from Prescott, go back to the workshop and forget this ever happened. She'll forget it all. Wasteland, Prescott, her magic, the quakes - NONE OF IT MATTERS ANYMORE! SHE DOESN'T CARE! IT CAN ALL GO TO HELL!

An old chest stuck in the dirt collided with the toe of her shoe. "WHOA!" Cecelia tripped into a sliding face full of musty soil, stopping that the edge of the D.E.C. It's over, she thought. Nothing matters anymore. Why bother. Nothing will change what has happened. It's all my fault. She planted her palms, peeling herself from the soil and spitting it up as well. She started shaking again as she sat on her knees. She was biting into her lip, trying her hardest not to scream. "Stupid…" She frothed at the mouth. She smashed her fist repeatedly into the ground. "You're so stupid, Cecelia." She doesn't deserve to help Mickey, Oswald, and Gus finish this mission. Wasteland doesn't need someone like her. A failure. They'll be better off. She fumbled her hands about, searching for the hatch of the D.E.C. Her fingers brushed a familiar patch of leather. Her hand smoothed to the bindings, her skin prickling. Her red eyes fell to the spellbook lying there amongst the dirt, returning the light to her eyes. She...she didn't realize she had dropped it until now. "My...book…" It was waiting for her right here this whole time. Not that inanimate objects can wait. It's possible it was just forgotten about. But still...for it to be in plain sight like this...it almost felt...like a sign. A sign that brewed an idea and blew the lid off the top of her head. "The...ritual!" She tore her book open, slapping 30 pages aside at the speed of light, her eyes skimming every phrase and paraphrase at it came, coming to a dead halt where the ritual was torn from. That will never stop tearing at her. But it wasn't important right now. What was important was the page just beyond the tear. Her jaw dropped like a hammer on an anvil, and an idea smacked her across the face. "OH MAN! I am stupid!" She scrambled to get into a dead run, hoping that Mickey, Oswald, and Gus hadn't gotten too far ahead.

To be continued...again.

But things seem to be getting interesting.