A new rainfall dours the streets and slips the sidewalks. From one puddle into another, a pair of tired feet patter indiscriminately towards an unknown destination.
The city is quiet again, but the chaotic atmosphere of the early morning still electrifies the air. Some stand in their doorways with umbrellas, admiring the catastrophe unfolding before their very eyes. Others peer out from their high-rise windows, disturbed sleepers and night-shift bluecollars both. Only a few understand what's really going on, but the consensus is the same no matter who you might ask - somehow, someplace, New Meridian is in danger. He must look like some kind of fool, wading through the rain like this, exposing himself to whatever dangers might be rummaging through the streets. It's only on a deserted street corner, bordering the city's fine divide into a luxurious, blaring uptown strip, that he decides his feet can't carry him much further.
"Hah..." Corpus wonders if the rain is making things better or worse, "She might not even be here."
How much of the city has he even covered? The siren had given him at least one thing to go on, but without it, he's lost his bearings in amidst the twisting alleys and junctions. Wandering aimlessly like this, how likely is it that he'll just run headfirst into Cecil at some point?
"It might be too late, anyway..." He realises.
But that didn't really matter. It should've been obvious from the beginning that they were just wasting time trying to find a way to help her. Accomplishing some impossible task in just a matter of hours, waiting for an answer to appear out of thin air - they were expecting a miracle to happen. Staying with her would have been the best choice, but that was before he realised just how important being close to Cecil at the time would be. It wouldn't feel right, to come this far just to give up all hope at the end, even if it's misplaced in some far-fetched dream that everything will turn out alright in the end.
"I'll be there." Corpus mutters, "That's all I can do."
The redness of the sunset had long faded from the city's skyline. It's only fitting that Cecil's favourite time of day would be something like that, when he and the others would have been too tired or busy to pester her about anything. In that way, the cruel weight he'd set upon her shoulders had probably molded her own desires into something twisted. What type of person would she have become, if it weren't for him? Moving away to the Canopy Kingdom must have been such a bittersweet moment for her to witness. To watch the executor of your fate finally leave, actions unpunished, must have surely stirred something complicated within her. It may have been that - no, it was almost certainly those feelings that pushed her onto the path of the Skull Heart.
"I'll lay everything bare." He resolves, "Maybe then, a miracle really will happen."
The aching in his muscles can't compare to it. All the culminations of his guilt, moving inward and collecting into a single, justified pain, marks only the beginning of his punishment. Whether he wants to or not isn't part of the question - the truth is, he's still too insensitive to recognise what it might actually be. But still, resolutely, he allows even the barest nub of pride to well up in his chest, content, at least, that he might be doing the right thing for once. The world becomes a blur around him, his eyes siphoning out the unnecessary details. Step by step, he digs at himself to unearth the landmarks that had occupied the space between the lab and the cathedral.
Somehow, he feels like he's approaching something. An epiphany, or a final appreciation of despair at some random destination. Occasionally, he spots the Egrets out in full force, jogging and reporting through muffled masks into their radios. No doubt they must be looking for Cecil as well, if that alarm was supposed to mean anything. Maybe they've already found her. It almost seems like they're converging onto one spot, or more accurately, it's better to say that they seem to be flushing out from one end of the city. None of them pay any attention to Corpus, as unusual as it must be to spot such a young lad doing a lap of the city so early in the morning.
Why is he so certain that Cecil must be this way? If the Egrets are on the move, wouldn't it only make sense to follow them?
"She's over here."
It's unexplainable. Like an invisible cord yanking itself around the corners, he can feel himself getting closer to something.
The night sky had been, for what now feels like the shortest time, his only escape into the labyrinth of his own memories. He can't help but wonder, however, what it really was about the stars that drew him into that kind of mindset, where he could briefly spot fragments of the whole story. Nothing about it was satisfying to him, having to meld together his old self from that fuzz. Cecil turned out to be his saviour in that regard, when their conflicting souls were able to make an unsteady truce. Their relationship hadn't been fixed - certainly not, but even with his memories restored, Corpus struggles to recall a time he ever saw Cecil smile. Under the guise of it being 'that' kind of day, it was almost as though they were able to see one-another as people for the first time.
Her smile was kind of infectious, rare as it was. Maybe the strange frustration he had felt when the two of them met again really was love.
"Well, I know better than to say stuff like that lightly." He pointlessly runs a hand through his soaked hair, "I'll weigh myself down with some complicated feelings if I start thinking like that."
He'd find the conclusion to all of these ridiculous thoughts waiting for him, at the end.
Big Band's words carried more weight to them than anyone thought they might. Within fifteen minutes of him reporting that the southeast corner of the city wasn't where the Skullgirl was located, the Egrets had already moved on to greener pastures, presumably under the impression that they were quickly narrowing the search down. Squigly, Cerebella and Carol have finally been given the breathing room they need to really make some tracks. The only issue now is pinning down where C actually is.
"How come he's wrapped up in all of this, anyway?" Cerebella feels free enough to speak up as they jog down the street.
"I beg your pardon?" Squigly responds.
"C, I mean. Kinda weird, when you think about it." She continues, "We don't even know who this girl is."
"Ah, the two of them didn't seem to be very fond of one-another on the way over." She explains, "But if that's the case, I wonder why she wishes to see him so badly?"
"I just hope he knows what to do when we find him..."
"If only everything could be so simple."
"Hey, Carol. How're you holdin' up?"
The dimunative girl seems to snap out of some kind of daydream. This entire time, she still hasn't let go of Cecil's hand, as though she's afraid that the girl will float away if given the chance. A demure nod is all Cerebella receives in response. Though not a second later, she finds herself at a standstill, the budding Skullgirl beside her suddenly as stiff as stone.
"Hoh. She stopped." Cerebella notices, "Ran outta juice or something?"
"Please try to take this seriously, Cerebella..."
Carol stares into the girl's red, unfocused eyes, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"Corpus..."
"W-We're still looking for him." She answers, "So, please hold on for a little while longer..."
As her sentence trails off, she watches as Cecil's arm raises slowly, pointing towards the end of the street, "Coming..."
"Eh?"
"Heeeey!"
That shout grabs their attention like nothing else. Squigly and Cerebella tense up, expecting to spot a small army rushing at them, but lower their guards as they begin to make out the source. It's difficult to spot anything past a certain point in rain as heavy as this, though with one hand raised so optimistically in the air, the least any of them can tell is that whoever is approaching can't be considered a threat. In the midst of the surprise, only Squigly can manage to drum up some level of surprise by the time the figure draws close enough to make out, uniform soaking wet and smile strangely bittersweet. The only one who ends up truly surprised in the end is Corpus himself, only noticing Cecil after he'd decided to start slowing down.
"C!" Squigly clasps her hands together, "...You're going to catch a cold."
"Try to say something that fits the atmosphere a little better..." He scratches the back of his head.
"Don't suppose you're lookin' for someone?" Cerebella extends an arm, "About yay high, maybe a little younger than me? Skullgirl?"
"How come you're all still out so late? Or, early, I guess." He cuts the joke short, "Thought you'd all be asleep by now."
"I envy anyone who managed to sleep through that infernal racket earlier." Squigly replies, "Perhaps this is what you would call fate?"
"You won't hear me complaining about it."
A silence falls upon the group. All of a sudden, their running and panting and wheezing had come to this unsatisfying finish. A feeling runs through them as though they haven't been given their scripts, or none of them are certain of who's supposed to be speaking up. The rain is the only calming constant, creating a queer feeling of accomplishment mixed with a yellowed, unsure pit that seems to grow in their stomachs. Such is the awkwardness in the air that the one to finally break the ice is the least talkative of them all.
"...Arm hurting."
Cecil, whose rigid finger still points squarely at Corpus, complains about such a simple thing as if her condition didn't exist. Carol is quick to reach out and relax the arm back to her side.
"Looks like I'm a little late." Corpus starts, watching her with sorrowful eyes, "But, at the same time, this isn't what I was expecting to see."
"I'm afraid we've only been given the abridged version of events." Squigly responds, "Although, it seems as though this girl hasn't become a Skullgirl quite yet."
"Her name's Cecil." He explains, averting his eyes, "I, uh... didn't tell you, when the two of you met."
"That reminds me!" She raises her voice, "I do hope that off-putting conversation you shared on the train has nothing to do with this!"
He flashes a sad smile, "You're mad at me."
"Are my feelings misplaced? I couldn't believe how coldly you spoke to her..."
"No, no. You're right." He pauses, "I won't try to apologise or anything like that. I know it won't do any good."
"...Is this really your fault?"
He can't help but feel put on the spot. Admitting it is one thing, but standing here, having to painstakingly explain his past failings to those who trusted him is almost enough to make him want to run away. Throughout this whole ordeal, he hadn't given any thought to the future that awaits him after all of this is over. Maybe, he'd been putting too much confidence in the patience or forgiveness of Squigly and the others. Even if he felt like regressing himself and reaching for some useless excuse, there wouldn't be any in reach. Finding even the slightest amount of happiness or contentment in this 'retribution' of his isn't shaping up to be an easy task. Having to cope with it alone - for as much as he deserved it, that didn't sound like something he'd be able to do.
"It is." He confesses, "I treated Cecil like dirt back home. Like she wasn't even a person."
"You..." Squigly cuts herself off, shaking her head, "That isn't something you would do."
"How would you know?"
"That-" She stammers, "E-Excuse me?"
"The person I was when we first met, isn't the person I was before." Corpus replies, "In- how long has it been? Two weeks? In that time, I've only just managed to put a cap on some of my bad habits. If I didn't lose my memories on that day, I'm certain that I wouldn't have changed at all."
"But you have changed, then! So how can you still blame yourself for what happened in the past?"
"For a while, that's what I was asking myself." He continues, "Because, it's not fair, right? Why do I get the blame for something, by my own standards, I didn't even do? I'm a different person now, so naturally I can't be at fault for something I did before I became an amnesiac."
"...When you word it like that, it certainly does sound off." Squigly mutters, "Then, what I really mean to ask is - why must you suffer in your old self's place?"
"You're talking about it like we're two separate people."
"You are! You can't be expected to wear the mantle of such a cruel person, who would push an innocent girl to the edge like this!"
"I'm still the same person." Corpus answers, "I still hate her."
"Don't say such things! I know that isn't true!"
"When we met again, I couldn't explain it at first. Why looking at her made me feel so furious." He reminisces, "Every time we spoke, it was like I couldn't help but try to diminish her or make her frustrated. At first, I felt horrible about it. 'This isn't how I usually act', is what I remember thinking. But, having remembered everything now, I realise why that was the case. It's because, even though my memories were gone, tormenting Cecil was something I still wanted to do."
With a smirk, he places his hands on his hips and sighs, "I'm him, alright. A real waste of skin, even after forgetting everything."
"...Then, why?" Squigly speaks up after a moment of silence, "What pushes you to suffer like this? When you know Cecil won't forgive you?"
"Well-" Somehow, he finds his mind clear for once, of all the complicated philosophies and dogmas, "...Because I deserve it, I guess."
It's such a simple conclusion, but one that fulfills the hole threatening to swallow him in. Whether he wants to or not, whether he can justify it or not - none of it changes the fact that if anyone has to suffer for it, it may as well be him. Perhaps Cecil won't forgive him. Maybe he's doomed the whole city. But, armed with the knowledge that deep down, he really does want to make amends for his mistakes, even the thinnest sliver of hope in his heart is enough to convince him that the effort's going to be worth it.
"...You should all head towards the cathedral."
The sudden suggestion breaks through the drone of the rain. Squigly blinks, her mouth wide open, "The... do you mean the Grand Cathedral?"
"Yeah. A little while ago, Filia was helping me out trying to find a way to help Cecil." He explains, "We ended up there, talking to this... well, monster, kind of."
"Do you speak of Double?"
The start deepness of a man's voice alerts Corpus, who surveys the street expecting to see Egrets, but whose attention is quickly grabbed by the sight of something peculiar - one of Squigly's drooping twintails suddenly drops to the ground, as if lopped off with a knife, and from the space created emerges some kind of pale-coloured shape, extending out and rapidly twirling around the girl. It's only when its movement slows that Corpus spots it - a yellow-eyed, sawtoothed maw idling in the air. The shape reminds him of a dragon's head.
"Worshipper of the Trinity?" A roiling plume of violet smoke puffs from its jaw, "What business did you have with it?"
"I..." Corpus stammers, holding his hands in front of him, "I don't think we've been introduced..."
"Leviathan!" Squigly yells, her hands pointlessly trying to hide the creature, "How could you do this!? Do you understand how embarassing this is for me!?"
"Milady, my existence is no closely-kept secret-"
"Might you have waited for a simpler time to introduce yourself!? I wanted the moment to be more personal than this!"
"Uh, hey- don't worry about it, Squigly." Corpus downplays, "I'm not weirded out or anything."
"You must think me deceitful for hiding something so important from you..." Tears begin forming near the corner of her eye, "I can only beg for your forgiveness..."
"Young Corpus, you must excuse her." Leviathan speaks over her grief, "She's become rather accustomed to hiding my existence as of late."
"Ah, no, don't worry about it..." He pardons uselessly, "But, how do you know my name?"
"Ben Birdland was kind enough to provide us with a short summary of events." Leviathan explains curtly, "It's by his hand that the Egrets were driven out from this corner of the city."
"That guy's ended up doing a lot for me, huh." He replies, "Shame. I kind of wanted to reveal my name a little more dramatically."
"Now you understand how it feels!" Squigly interjects.
"More to the point, Corpus..." Leviathan continues, "Might I ask why you and Filia found yourselves seeking Double?"
"Filia said she- well, it, might know how to help Cecil." He recounts, "But, all she had to tell us was a bunch of doomsaying nonsense."
"I imagine you weren't simply allowed to leave, either."
"I don't think Filia would've left even if she had the option." He crossed his arms, "Sounds like she had some unfinished business with it."
"Dear oh dear." Leviathan sighs, "No doubt you've already met Samson? I wonder why she didn't simply tell you the whole truth."
"I don't really get it, myself. But..." Corpus scratches his head, "It sounds like you've all been in much deeper water than me."
"To say the least." He sums up, "...So? What do you plan on doing?"
"How do you mean?"
"He means 'how the hell are you gonna help Cecil', dumbass." Cerebella points out.
"You want me to explain it?"
"Be our guest." She folds her arms, "I'm sure Filia's got plenty of time to spare."
"What, uh, Double said, about the Skull Heart, kind of made it sound like it wasn't... ready yet."
"That's true. I believe Birdland mentioned something similar. It would explain why we've been stricken with a Skullgirl so soon after the last." Leviathan comments.
"The way it was worded makes me think that something about Cecil is being used to- well, feed it, I guess."
"Ah... I think I understand." Squigly, having composed herself, joins the conversation, "Are you perhaps suggesting that the Heart is driven by the emotions of its host?"
"Kind of." Corpus pauses, "But, more than emotions, I think the wish of the 'host' is what's really doing it."
"The wish?"
He nods, "Or, maybe it's more like the frustrations that come from not having your wish granted."
Having been trying to avoid it for the longest time, Corpus finally turns to face Cecil herself, still suspended in another world, her eyes lifeless and unfocused. Even now, with him standing right in front of her, she barely has the awareness to notice. Stuck in her own little world, doing nothing but fueling the ageless, blood-driven engine of destruction stirring right next to her own heart.
"It doesn't really matter, if she gets what she wants." He mutters, "In fact, it's better if she doesn't. That way, the heart can grow as quickly as possible."
"A Skullgirl's wish can never truly be granted." Leviathan muses, "It is a tale as old as the Canopy Kingdom itself. And yet there are still those who believe their fate will be different."
"Cecil's wish was to get revenge for what I did." He declares, "I'm sure of it."
"So, what? You're sayin' if she kills you, she'll just calm right down?" Cerebella wonders.
"No. That's the horrible part." He answers quickly, "If that happened, I'm certain that she wouldn't be satisfied at all. She'd probably think that, in the end, revenge wasn't what she expected it to be."
He lowers his head, "Her wish wouldn't be granted. And that would only speed things up."
"Then what's your plan?"
"Hm." He thinks for a moment, "I don't have one."
"Yeah, that ain't gonna cut it." Cerebella waves her hand, "Be honest with me."
"Well, maybe it's impossible, but the only way I can see this ending peacefully is if Cecil decides to forgive me."
"You think that's just gonna make the Skull Heart magically disappear?"
"It sounds ridiculous, but I think that might actually be the case." He puts a hand to his chin, "Like Big Band said, the Heart - right now, it's kind of on life support. Cecil's the only one keeping it going, at least until it can pull its own weight."
"Yeah, but- I mean, where does the Heart go? Does it just leave her body or somethin'?"
Corpus shrugs, "What happened to it when the last Skullgirl died?"
"Ah, you'd have to ask Fi-" She begins to answer, before quickly shaking her head, "Uh... no idea."
"I don't mean to interrupt..." Squigly clasps her hands, "But if Filia truly has encountered Double again, I'd like to help her as soon as possible."
"Gettin' herself into all sorts of trouble, as usual..." Cerebella smirks, "You sure you don't want any of us to stick around, C?"
"It's Corpus."
"I ain't callin' you that. I'm in too deep with this nickname shtick now."
"If anything dangerous happens..." He ignores her, "-Well, I'm sure you'll hear about it, one way or another."
"Soundin' real optimistic, there." She rolls her eyes before turning away.
"Corpus!" Squigly calls out, "...Um, I'd like to offer you some words of encouragement, but I'm afraid they wouldn't be much help."
"I appreciate the concern all the same." He accepts that, at least, "Just worry about Filia, for now."
As she begins to jog after Cerebella, Leviathan offers him a quiet nod in appreciation. The shock of seeing something so strange hasn't quite subsided, and so he can only offer a weak smile in return. It's only as he watches the two of them march towards the cathdral's direction that he feels a tugging at his sleeve, still ruined and completely soaked through. Carol looks up at him with a conflicted expression, her hand now freed from Cecil's, who stands listlessly just a few steps away.
"Thanks for helping to bring her along, Carol." Corpus speaks, "I was starting to lose hope."
"You're a bad person."
His weak smile falters. She stares at him without the understanding eyes of forgiveness that Squigly or Cerebella had shown him. An unhidden layer of contempt shows plainly on her face.
"Yeah." He replies, "I know."
"You took advantage of her."
He nods, "I won't pretend to know anything about your situation, but that kind of thing doesn't fly by you, huh?"
"Why did you do it?"
He blinks. For some reason, his answer doesn't come out as quickly as it arrives in his head.
"...Because I wanted to." He confesses, "It felt nice, being able to treat someone like that."
The sound is muffled by the pouring rain, but he feels it all the same. Carol doesn't pull any punches. She slaps him so suddenly, he barely spots it coming, although even if he did, what purpose would trying to stop her even serve? His cheek starts stinging like nothing else. It doesn't seem to satisfy Carol even one bit, but she stops herself from doing it again. If he can't accept something like this standing up, Cecil will be the end of him. Raising a hand in anger seems so unlike Carol, and yet he can't bring himself to feel any sadness or guilt on her behalf. If he has to phrase it in a way that makes sense, it's only a stern disappointment in himself that bothers to manifest. With trembling shoulders, she looks at him with a gaze he has a little trouble meeting. Someone like her also doesn't want to be brought to this emotional edge. It's only his own words that forced this kind of reaction out.
"You'd better help her." Carol seethes out, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I will." He promises.
"I thought you were a better person than this..." She sniffs, "Maybe she'll forgive you. But I won't."
He doesn't have the time to come up with a reply, watching her break past him and run to meet with Squigly and Cerebella. No matter the perspective he takes, there's no arguing about Carol's commitment to what she said. The thought makes him wonder if the others were keeping some of their comments to themselves or not. For now, at the very least, he's certainly lost her trust, but any hangups about friendship and trust don't belong at the forefront of his head. Right now, there's something even more important he has to deal with, first. Cecil's dreamlike reality seems to have continued uninterrupted between their short Q&A session, though her hand still clenches shut, as if Carol's is still there.
"So, this is it." He walks up to her, trying to steer clear of the aquamarine whisps flaring from her body, "There's a lot riding on what happens next, you know."
"Corpus..."
"You don't really seem so talkative, though..." He mutters, "I'm not sure how to get through to you."
With a degree of nervousness, he reaches out to touch her hand. Even tempered by the cool, showering night, he can feel how freezing her body is. Whether out of choice or pure reflex, her fingers intertwine gently with his. With nowhere else to look, he finds himself trying to locate something in the deep vermillion of her pupils - some sign of life that gives him even the slightest hope that Cecil is still there. Something about the colour speaks to him; a gravely, hidden abyss that seems to draw him in.
"Hm?" He tries not to let the sensaton get to him, "This is..."
That's right. A yawning, blood-stricken chasm with no bottom. Spirits, feelings - the soul itself, there's no limit to how much it seems to devour. It's as simple as taking a step back to avoid falling in, but he continues to stand there, paralyzed by something not quite fear, not quite apprehension. The features and shadings of the world around them seems to dissolve away, into marginal, barely noticeable arrangement of lines and darkness. The wind around seems to push him, the ground crumbling near his feet. Fate drives him downward, inexorably into nothingness, where a thriving machine of death awaits its next meal. Slowly, thoughts easing into acceptance, he allows his last resistances to wear off, and, on his own terms, steps forward into the thin air, feeling the air run across his face, towards the wide shadow of the unknown.
His entire world turns white.
In a perfect, featureless world, unchained by the limitations and embarassments of the city sprawl, the two of them are given nothing to hide behind. With no room for excuses, only the truth can be exposed. At least, that's how it would work, if this really was a perfect world. In practice, the whole white void that seems to continue on forever only fosters a feeling of being watched. The wide echo that accompanies each of their footsteps gives the impression that they're intruding on something much more important. A sanctified cleanliness, that neither of them can belong to or feel comfortable standing in. The feeling shrinks this grand confrontation, reduces it to a naked nub of its original meaning - just two kids, incapable of engaging one-another in a conversation that could ever hold real meaning.
"Do me a favour and make this place a little more interesting to look at." Corpus rubs his shoulder, "It's giving me the creeps."
"Don't make it sound like I've got a say in it." Cecil furrows her brow, "-And, more importantly, what kind of conversation starter is that!?"
"It's all barren and lifeless. No place to have an argument."
"Do you think..." She pauses, "...It's trying to say something? About us?"
"I'm a party animal, so probably not."
"Please take this seriously."
He smirks, "I'm just kidding."
Truthfully, he's found his nervousness a little overwhelming. Being separated from anyone who would be more suited to this sort of thing makes the weight on his shoulders seem that much heavier. Now that it's come down to the wire like this, he realises that someone else would be better off in his shoes. No righteous, altruistic mindset is going to stop the inevitable, as much as he wants it to. Coming out of this is going to take something else, something he doesn't fully grasp yet. Even with so much time to mature, it doesn't feel like he's any closer to reaching that crucial 'understanding'. After a beat, Cecil's shoulders slump, a defeated expression on her face.
"I'm sorry, Corpus."
"Hey now, where's this coming from?" He raises an eyebrow, "I'm the one who's supposed to be saying sorry."
"If I hadn't listened to that nun, this wouldn't have happened." She rubs her arm, "It's not just you I've been causing trouble for."
"Don't go putting the blame on yourself." He replies, "It was my fault to begin with, Cecil."
"That's okay." She concludes, "I forgive you."
Aren't those the words he came to hear? The one, impossible answer to his every problem, laid out in this lifeless conversation like a glimmer shining out from a pile of dirt. Spoken like someone barely hanging on to the edge, complacent with all the demands around her - there isn't any happiness to be found in words like these. She isn't lying, certainly. A guilt of her own sprouts into the chambers of her heart, responsibilities suspended above her like a blade waiting to drop. On the contrary, her answer only fuels more discontent between them.
"It's not about... forgiveness." Corpus admits, "It's not about this, or that. I don't know what the hell it's about."
He takes a step forward, "I've spent too much time thinking about it. More than- you know, a conviction, or a goal, it's developed into an obsession over these past couple of weeks. To me, there has to be an answer hidden somewhere, and for a long time, that answer was the idea that I could somehow take on all the pointless suffering you've been through. I can't apply a band-aid and just wait for it to heal, or ignore the problem and hope that it goes away. But, when I look at it deeper, even the complicated solutions don't seem to work, either."
"Even if it's impossible, you still want to help me, don't you?"
"There's no helping you." He sighs, "That's... the truth, isn't it?"
"That's how I see it." Cecil confirms, "To me, those years are gone for good. They aren't coming back."
"You can 'forgive' me, but..."
"...There's no getting rid of hate like that." She finishes, "So, I'm sorry that my forgiveness is kind of useless."
For a moment, he almost feels like accepting that paradoxical apology. The two of them know that, as soon as they reach some sort of general consensus, the ship will have already sailed. Cecil is on the verge of complacency with existing in this drab, colourless world. Dwelling on the past, regretting hasty decisions - none of that could fix the problem, either. She crosses her arms behind her back and begins rocking back and forth on her heels, "Are you staying here permanently? In the Canopy Kingdom?"
"No, no..." He answers, deflated, "Me and the old man are gonna head back home at some point. Soon, probably."
"Isn't that painful? Won't you have to leave your friends behind?"
"Well, that's just how it is, right?" He replies, "Of course I'll be upset."
"It's looking like I won't be able to follow you this time." She points out, "If you don't find a way to save me, that is."
"I'm 'saving' you now, am I?"
"Well, I don't want this to happen, either!" She crosses her arms, "And, what can I really do, anyway?"
"Take revenge."
"Ta-" She stammers, "Excuse me?"
"Be honest with me, Cecil." Corpus pleads, "What was the wish you made to the Skull Heart?"
"Isn't that much obvious?" She pouts, "I wanted to get back at you, for the hell you and your 'friends' put me through."
"That's what I expected." He nods, "But, it's the unfulfillment of that wish that's causing this to happen to you."
"What do you mean? That nun told me the Skull Heart was going to grant my wish."
"Do you think there really is something like that?" He presses, "A relic that magically grants wishes?"
"...W-Well, naturally!" She yells, "Why else would I have done it?"
"You say that, but..." He pauses, "You already know you've been played for a fool, don't you?"
"Because that thing lied to me!" Cecil retorts, "It said if my wish was selfless, I wouldn't become a Skullgirl!"
"And you believed that!?" Corpus shouts back, "What did you think it would do to you!? Give you courage!? To do what with - kill me!?"
"Is that what you want me to admit!?" Her fists begin to shake, "Of course I wanted to kill you!"
The room carries no echo. Not a soul stands there to listen in on their screaming match, but still, a mutual and embarassing silence quickly falls between them. Being able to lay their feelings bare like this felt good, certainly, but it isn't going to get them anywhere. Since being reunited with his memories, Corpus always believed that might be the case, but hearing it spoken out loud hits him a little harder than he was expecting. After so many years of abuse, it's only natural Cecil would be pushed to fostering such violent fantasies. Strangely, she seems even more surprised than him at her words.
"Of course... that's what I want..." She lowers her voice, "But, I can't ever go through with it now."
"Why's that?"
"Because of you! Who you are!" She gestures at him broadly, "Up until recently, Corpus didn't even exist anymore! I walked up to you that day, thinking I'd finally be able to make you pay, and then you turn around and start talking like a completely different person! Like someone I'd never met before in my life!"
"You didn't believe me at first."
"I thought you were trying to manipulate me! Trying to make me think that you'd 'changed' for the better!"
"I get it." He closes his eyes, "Because, at that time, I barely recognised you. All that I could even slightly remember was the hatred I used to have for you."
"So I pressed, and pressed, thinking that, one day, you'd just boil over and suddenly go back to how you were before! But..."
"It didn't happen."
"No..." She slumps her shoulder, "Not until yesterday, when you wanted to just 'take it easy' for a little while."
"I was surprised you even went along with that." He lets a smile cross his face, "I guess we were both pretty low-energy when that happened."
"How do I put it..." Cecil wonders for a moment, "More than anything else, that was definitely when I realised..."
"I didn't thank you properly for telling me the whole story." Corpus recalls, "I know, the one thing you didn't want to do was recall those days, but you did it for my sake."
"D-Don't get the wrong idea." She replies, "I wanted you to remember so that you would at least understand when I tried to kill you."
Shuffling her feet, Cecil wears an unsatisfied expression, "-Or, at least, that's what I thought I wanted to do."
"Hm?" Corpus tilts his head.
"Seeing you trying to help me - taking me to the Anti-Skullgirl Labs, running all the way to the cathedral for a chance at finding an answer... even though you've remembered everything at this point, you still don't act the way you used to."
Raising her head, her eyes connect with his, "You're... not Corpus. Not anymore."
It must be frustrating, to have the pillar which supports your hatred crumble away to nothing. Overnight, all reasonable hopes of revenge and gratification vanished into thin air, the one responsible for the entire mess half-baked into some new, complicated type of person. Being tempted into handing over her humanity for a chance at vengeance she can never truly reach - perhaps the Skull Heart was destined to create a story as poetic as this. Yet here the two of them stand, prideless and beaten, layering each other with apologies. If only this, if only that, if only so-and-so hadn't happened. They're afraid of looking into a future that seems so bleak, one with a Skullgirl terrorising the city six years too early.
Corpus sighs, "You're wrong."
"Wrong?" She repeats, "How? I can't call you the same person anymore."
"I remember what it was like." He answers, "Making your life a living hell. Stealing money from you every other day. Punching you, kicking you, making you hold your arm out to see which of us could break it first - whatever I felt like doing, for as long as I felt like doing it."
"But you don't act like that anymore. You've changed."
"So what?" He frowns, "I wouldn't have stopped. Not ever. Even if we left school, started working, started moving on with our lives. If I hadn't lost my memories on that day, you would've run into the person you were expecting to see on your way over."
"What's your point?"
"I am Corpus." He explains, "I did all of those things. There's no running away from that."
He takes a step forward, "If you fulfill your wish, the Skull Heart won't have anything left to 'feed' on-"
"Corpus."
"Uh-" He stammers, interrupted, "What is it?"
"I'm not going to kill you."
A beat passes between the two of them.
"...B-But that would solve everything!" He replies suddenly, "If it means sacrificing myself to help everyone else, then-"
"Honestly..." She speaks over him, "Maybe your personality's sweetened up a little, but you're still a moron through-and-through."
"Where's all this coming from..." He scratches the back of his head, "This wasn't the reaction I was expecting."
"I get that you're trying to fix your act up, but here's a few words of advice." Cecil strolls towards him, "You don't always have to play the hero, idiot."
The atmosphere lightening up ever-so-slightly, his grief begins to fade into a mild confusion, "I'm not following."
"Tell me something." She puts her hands on her hips, "How much is it going to take for you to repay me?"
"I'm 'repaying' you now?"
"Don't make it sound like you were planning on getting off scot-free this whole time! And you already made this joke!" She shouts, "Answer me for real!"
"How much?" He asks, pondering the question for a brief moment, "...More money than I've ever seen in my life."
She has to stand on her toes to even get a clear shot at his head, but her fist manages to land pretty squarely on his scalp, even if she does have to rebalance herself afterwards.
"Who said I was talking about money!?" She takes a moment to sigh, "I mean, effort. On your part. You do know what making up for your mistakes means, don't you?"
"Isn't that something you're supposed to decide?"
"I'll decide if I'm satisfied with your answer when you give it to me."
"...Well." He calms down, "It lasted for nearly seven years, didn't it?"
"That's right." Similarly, Cecil also closes her eyes in remembrance, "Although, I will admit that to begin with, it was just some mild bullying."
"Even so, it wasn't long before I got the idea to ramp it up." He adds, "It was on the day I found out about your family. How wealthy your parents were."
"Your obsession with my wallet was almost perverted." She crosses her arms, "What did you even spend all of that money on?"
"Hm. Meals, mostly?" He recalls, "I started going out to some pretty expensive places at night. That way I didn't bother my old man."
Restaurants by the dockside streets, lights still on even deep into the early hours of the morning. It was such a daily occurance that it's one of the only things he'd managed to remember on his own terms. The fresh sting of sea-salt on the air, black ocean stretching as far as the eye could see, the silhouettes of fishing boats resting on the tarred horizon. He feels guilty now, knowing that these nostalgic memories of his were paid with Cecil's money. Just how much of the Dragon Empire did he fondly recall in this way?
"Your father is an author. Isn't that right?"
"Hoh, someone's been doing their research." He seems genuinely surprised, "It's been a long time since someone called my old man an 'author', let me tell you."
"A writer of children's books. Some very popular ones, too." She recalls, "Though, none of them particularly recent."
"He was in his stride when you and I weren't even alive. Used to be a celebrity, almost. That's how he met my mother, or so he tells me."
"It makes me a little upset knowing he got shackled with a son like you."
"...Hm." He's forced to accept her words, "I was a little unexpected, to say the least. I think, that's maybe what made him lose his touch. Too much responsibility, or something."
"Is that why you're here?" Cecil asks.
"He's trying to rekindle that passion he had. That's what he told me." Corpus answers, "That house I'm staying in? He spent the last of his savings renting out that place. I don't even know where's he's staying. I try not to think about it."
"You don't dislike him?"
"Are you kidding?" He exclaims, his expression turning forlorn. "Back home, he was the only person I cared about. That's why I stole money from you in the first place."
"So that's the reason..." She lowers her head at the revelation, "Couldn't you have done something else to support him? A part-time job, maybe?"
"Why didn't I do that?" He asks himself, "That might be the only thing I'm still not sure of. What went through my mind to justify doing what I did instead?"
"You were desperate."
"Because I wanted to." He concludes quickly, "I... I made an excuse just then. I lied to you."
"You..." Her chest aches, "Because you... wanted to?"
"In a way, I thought that I was the one in the right." Corpus begins, "In my eyes, you didn't do anything to earn the life you'd been given. None of the money you owned belonged to you, and none of your prestige did, either. Over time, I stopped 'seeing' you whenever our eyes crossed, like you weren't really human. All of my frustrations and faults as a person - you became the perfect vessel to reflect all of that onto. Just like how you are now, attached to the Skull Heart, all I could see from the outside was something imitating a human, like a doll. Being able to take advantage of you in that way, as much as I don't want to admit it - made me feel like I was doing the right thing."
The two of them lock eyes, "It makes me sick. These feelings. That's why I tried to block it all out by trying to become a 'better' person, thinking I'd just be forgiven."
But it isn't about forgiveness. That's what he said only minutes ago. Then again, he also said that he wasn't sure what it's supposed to be about. This cyclical mindset has had him trapped now for weeks, constantly following the motions into ever-changing philosophies as if there's just one particular key thought that would let him articulate how it all makes sense in the end. In a way, Cecil suffers from the same issue, trying to work out the burden of her 'forgiveness' in a way that satisfies her. A lonely memory drifts to her in the silence that follows Corpus' tirade - one moment shared in the sterile air of the Anti-Skullgirl labs, when Big Band tried to distract her from the impending hopelessness of her situation.
Isn't it normal, to feel guilty?
Even just willing to make amends - isn't that what it's all about?
Lost time or not, what good is there in ruminating on the past as if it has anything interesting to say about the future?
"Corpus." Cecil speaks up, "You didn't answer me."
"Huh?" A tired look manifests on his face, "Didn't you hear all of the awful things I just said to you?"
She ignores him, "How long is it going to take for you to repay me?"
"Years." He answers quickly, "No, maybe even decades."
There it was.
The will. Stepping forward from a dark place to burn yourself in the sunlight, and for what? Only a degree of selflessness can fuel that kind of attitude. Corpus answers her without a shred of doubt, as if it's the sort of thing that would happen naturally.
Even if she didn't forgive him, he would still try to help.
"What would you try to do?"
"Repay you, for one thing. Literally." He replies, "Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but every penny I took from you, I'll give back."
"I didn't mean anything that drastic!"
"Why don't you give me some ideas, then?" He suggests, "It's you I want to help, after all."
A short lull in the conversation.
Cecil can't help but break eye contact. It's difficult to hide anything in a completely stark-white space like this, but she still tries her hardest to cover her bashful smile and suddenly reddening cheeks, hands fidgeting in a rarely-seen display of pure embarassment.
"W-Well, you could..." She stammers, "Be there... uh, when I'm- you know... upset, and stuff..."
This innocence, he's seen before. At another time, Carol had once shown him how it was possible for her to step beyond the curtain she tries to keep drawn shut. The desire for something simple, free of the worries that plagued her everyday life. With so much on the line, it's almost impossible not to understand that embarassment of hers. To shove her feelings into the 'climax', the natural end of their two journeys, creates a feeling that they might be unwanted, or unnecessary. But for even a few seconds, just to be free of this choking situation means a lot to him.
He smiles, properly this time, "What's this picture of maidenhood that's unfolding before my eyes?"
"Shut up! Isn't that normal!?" She replies angrily, "It's the last thing I want to ask from someone like you!"
"I never said I wouldn't do it." He chuckles, "That's a given, obviously. I'll stick by you."
"...Hmph." She reluctantly accepts his words, "Thank you."
A tremor shakes them from that back-and-forth so on the verge of appearing heartwarming. A great movement that shakes them to their cores, the sanctity of this space altogether disturbed. They look around for no other reason than what their minds convince them to do - there's nothing around or nearby that could harm them, but something so drastic could only herald darker times. Corpus is unsteady enough on his feet to fall over, but not a moment later, the tremors suddenly cease. The sudden returning sereneness makes it almost seem as though nothing had happened.
"Whew." With some effort, he returns to his feet, "Almost forgot we've got something that needs doing."
"You won't be doing anything to help me if I end up turning into a Skullgirl."
"Well, good talk, anyways." He takes the opportunity to stretch, "Although there are still plenty of questions I want to ask."
"I could say the same." Cecil recuperates, "...But, how do we stop this from happening?"
"The Heart's supposed to be feeding from your wish." Corpus explains, "Or, that's the theory we've been using, at least."
"Could it just be wrong?" She asks, "Maybe we're already past the point of no return."
"No, I don't think so." He pauses for a moment, "Cecil!"
"W-What? Don't shout like that so suddenly..."
"I'm sorry."
Clumsily, he makes an effort to bow. It's the first time he's ever felt the need to, as natural as it should be to him.
"That's all I can say, for now." He continues, "I know an apology isn't worth anything. Not after what I put you through."
Slowly, he raises his head, "I'll prove it to you. That I want to make things right. No matter how long it takes."
"Corpus..." Cecil mutters, "That's-"
Another tremor, somehow greater than the last, threatens to knock the two of them off their feet. The pure space, white as a feather, finally shudders and cracks, the line running from the ceiling to their impossible floor, and then down further into the second void below. Between the vascular canals, Corpus can spot the bright, flickering azure whisping through the gaps. The floor, too, brought into existence by their own beliefs, begins to dissolve away. Without momentum, their bodies become immobile strays in the space, before the roundabout sky collapses completely, and the space beyond the infinite ruptures like a dying star, white fading into a kaleidoscope of ocean-black formations. The groaning of something stirs in that unfathomable distance, the wild beating loud enough to burst his eardrums. Below them, exchanging glances, the chasm widens - a living creature, insatiable and displeased, threatens to swallow them whole.
And yet, above the noise, he can still hear Cecil clearly.
"Doesn't look so fun from the inside, does it?"
"When I got kicked out of that taxi..." He reminisces, "I was thinking student life in the Canopy Kingdom would be more peaceful than this."
"What made you lose your memories, anyway?"
"We're really going to have this conversation now?" He blinks, "Can't it wait?"
"I can't help it. I'm curious."
"No idea what you're talking about." He looks away, "I don't remember forgetting a thing."
For once, Cecil wears a smile as well, "Weirdo."
"It looks like this is where I'm getting off." He notices, "So, just hold down the fort for a couple more minutes."
"Corpus."
"Hm?"
"You promised." She stares at him with melancholy eyes, "So, don't go forgetting that too, alright?"
He doesn't have a chance to answer her. The sound of that dreadful heartbeat begins to block out everything, as if it's right next to him. Everything - sound, touch, light, it all seems to break down. He can't perceive anything; for a moment, the world seems to skip ahead without him, forgetting him. The chasm endarkens him fully, pushing him forward into a sadder, less enjoyable life filled with difficulties. Apologies, realisations and confessions disappear completely, leaving him only with the actions of the present to lead him forward. The black world above reminds him of the night sky again, with all the individual stars and constellations of his memories gone and accounted for.
His entire world turns black.
The feeling awakens him like nothing else. Coldness snaps to him all at once, enciting shivers and teeth-chattering. He can feel the uniform clinging to his body, his shoes thoroughly filled and ruined by water. Taking in a breath of fresh air, he separates himself from the ground, most of the street now obscured behind a sheet of torrential rain. For a moment, his only thoughts are of himself, before he takes a moment to blink, and turns around. Cecil lays somewhat similarly on the ground, but that isn't what catches his eye.
The colour is bright enough to make out clearly in the dark. Flashes of pure blue, so bright he has to force himself to look away. The heat attracts him like a moth, but he knows better than to step towards it. A silhouette burns in the shape of that flame, black outline flickering into focus, twin eyeholes eternally open, focusing on only him. That same sound repeats in the air. A visceral heartbeat - or, is it the sound of the realisation beating in his own chest? He finds himself in the middle of all types of half-baked emotion. Fear, happiness, expectation and hunger. They battle inside of him, but the only expression he can bring himself to show is one of wide-eyed astonishment.
"You..." His throat is dry, "You're the real thing, aren't you?"
Of course, it doesn't answer him. It's only a tool, so naturally the creator is the one who should do all the talking, but the grander scheme of the Canopy Kingdom's curse, he can't help but feel, dwarfs him in a way that can't even be imagined. No, he won't be given any conclusion, any greater motive to the crisis, but that's okay. He isn't here to listen to something like that. His hands warm up quickly, bringing them close to it. Like a child turning on a stovetop for the first time, he finds himself frightened by the heat. It's certainly painful, more painful than he has the words to describe, when he puts aside all feelings of preservation and grabs the shadow hiding inside the flame. His breathing becomes unsteady, his eyes a picture of fear, but still, his grasp remains firmly tightened around the skull-shaped relic.
It melds like glue around his fingers as he begins to clench. It only takes a few seconds, but to him, the pain feels endless. Just as he nears the limit of his strength, his hands collapse together, the shape crunching inexorably inward. A wail, like a banshee's cry, pours through the air around as the whisps of blue fire quickly carry away in the wind, the sound of that heartbeat descending to a whisper in the downpour. The few seconds he has to savour the feeling are quickly replaced by the stifled yells he makes, waving his hands to-and-fro in the air, dropping to his knees to submerge them in a shallow puddle between the cobblestone, his palms bleeding and peeling all over.
The pain doesn't stop, but that much is expected. This was the sort of thing he'd have to go to a hospital for, but at least he's able to think straight after a few minutes of teeth-clenching agony. The rain probably made it easier - if this was the middle of the day, he might have just settled for stomping on it instead. He finishes the moment with a quiet sigh, clear-headed enough to carry himself towards Cecil, still splayed on the floor. He finds himself panicking even now, quickly turning her over and pulling an arm up to check her pulse. Even through the pain, he closes his eyes in relief when the subtle feeling of her heart still pumping registers on his shot nerves.
"Mmh..."
Like that, she stirs on the ground, sounding like someone waking up from a middle-of-the-day nap.
"Cecil?" He speaks, still finding some way to worry himself.
She has a little trouble keeping her eyes open, probably on account of the rain. What it must look like, seeing these two crumpled to the ground in the early morning, eyes filled with dangerous mixtures of hope and apprehension - you might say, hardly any further ahead than when they first started, with still so many important questions unanswered and so many indecipherable emotions misunderstood. Whether this is the first step forward, or the first step back, remains to be seen by anyone. The lines have been tread, and the promises have been made, though a wavering anticipation of the future still remains, whether absurd or laughable. He understands her now, at least, looking up at him then, with a look of something - barely forgiveness, barely expectation, barely happiness or acceptance, glimmering in her eyes.
She smiles, "Corpus."