The lavender Dweller's home was a small, two-story building connected to part of the town's outer wall, and for not the first time Hat Kid had a weird, familiar feeling as she walked through the winding—if short—streets to get there. The ghost faded inside the house first, then she heard something click before the door swung open for her. The warm, yellow light of a candle poured out from the inside with a welcoming glow, and even if it weren't for her invitation in, the child was still drawn toward it.
Surprisingly, the home was well-furnished. There were shelves lined with little trinkets and interesting works of stone, an empty fireplace, a table with a vase filled with some of the forest's shimmering flowers and the candle sitting on top of it, soft curtains suspended by the windows, and a woven rug stretched over the hard floor. Stairs were carved out from the wall, leaping up. "You can take a seat, if you want," said the Dweller, "My mother's probably upstairs. Just give me a minute…"
With that, she spiraled through the ceiling to the second floor. Hat Kid considered following, but shuffled closer to the candle instead. Raising her hands to the flickering flame, the subtle warmth radiating from it actually surprised her. The Horizon's temperature remained so steady that any change was jarring. It felt nice and rejuvenating, as if the terror of what she'd experienced earlier had chilled her blood and only just now started to thaw.
Taking a second glance around, she admired the old-fashioned, but quaint look of the place. It certainly had more personal touches than Moonjumper's castle anyway. There was a cozy feeling to it all. It was pretty quiet, but then that went for most of the Horizon. Space was quiet too, so it was weird how much she found herself missing the calls of birds and insects she'd gotten used to hearing while on the planet's surface.
A red blur swerved into her line of vision. At first it startled her, but she recognized the shape immediately after. It was another one of the faceless Dwellers. Although there was little to distinguish them beyond the shape of their masks, this one seemed smaller and lither than the baker. Despite the lack of eye sockets, the ghost seemed to stare at her intensely. "Oh my, oh my…" she whispered in a quiet, feminine voice, seemingly to herself.
The lavender Dweller floated down the stairwell, "This is the child I was telling you about, Mother," she explained, "She said she'd like you to make something for her. You will, won't you?"
At first, the older phantom drew back a little, as if trying to hide behind the wall. Hat Kid offered a small, greeting wave, trying to reassure her. Honestly, the alien didn't really care for a new outfit—not that she would turn down the gift, but clothes were the furthest thing from her mind. The former raised her head brightly though when she added, "Will you? Your daughter says you're good as sewing."
It was like meeting another person. Although still soft-spoken, the faceless Dweller pulled herself back out into the open and crossed over to Hat Kid, nodding eagerly. "I-I'm a little out of practice, but I can certainly try," she answered, "It's been so long…" The excited energy she now carried herself with differed greatly from her mask's expressionless features. Darting through the air, she went over to over of the shelves to a tiny box.
The lavender Dweller looked at Hat Kid with what seemed to be a thankful smile before diving away to grab some paper. Then a faint, red glow enveloped the box as her mother opened it and pulled out a deeply yellowed measuring tape with nearly unreadable markings from inside. At first, it appeared fragile with age, but the more she unraveled it revealed its sturdy, leather material.
They got right to work. It felt awkward, the ghosts gently guiding her positions and the tape firmly looping around one part of her body before pulling away to encircle another. She'd never had anyone take her measurements for anything before. Counter to this, the mother and daughter moved in natural sync.
"I'm afraid I don't have many fabrics or colors," the former admitted, "but I know I can work with what I have to make something nice. Do you like red?"
The child gave her a little grin and nod, reaffirming, "I'm sure whatever you make will be great." At the same time though, a part of her began to wonder how much of a need there was for a ghost seamstress anyway. Beyond the ragdoll-like bodies that Snatcher's minions possessed, only a handful seemed to wear anything at all. The Dwellers themselves typically just wore their masks and nothing else. If it was just something the woman did before she died, then surely she could've picked up another hobby by now. Why not? To avoid hitting too personal a mark though, Hat Kid instead asked, "How long have you been sewing?"
"For as long as I can remember," she answered with a light sigh, then with a bit of pride, "I made the Prince's outfit. And the curtains in the castle—I did most of the sewing for the castle, actually. It was a big job and it took a while, but it was just so bare!"
More than it was now? That was a depressing thought. "It must have been a lot of work."
"Actually, I miss it…" her voice turned a bit gloomy, "Now there's just so little to do, I'm not sure what to do with myself."
The child's mind went again to Snatcher's minions, the uneven stitches on their bodies and the roughly patched over tears from times that they'd been worn or ripped. They probably could use someone who could stitch them up a little nicer—maybe make them look a bit more unique from each other than the bad copies of their current forms. Maybe the other Subcon Dwellers would even like bodies of their own. Snatcher didn't like strangers entering the forest, but what about old residents? "Maybe one day you could go back to Subcon," she offered, "I think there are people there who'd like your sewing too."
The elder phantom gave a strange tilt of her head, and replied to her bafflement, "I think you're confused child. This is Subcon. I should know: I lived here all my life."
Hat Kid's eyes widened, but before she could respond, the lavender Dweller glided over to her with a consoling motion. "No, Mother," she mildly countered, like someone correcting a toddler. There was a twinge of sadness to her voice. "We left Subcon, don't you remember? We had to."
The woman went silent for a long time, as if trying to process her thoughts. Her gaze seemed distant, and when she snapped back to the present all she answered with was a quiet, "Oh…" as if she only half-believed it.
Her daughter stared at her a moment longer. If she were alive, her shoulder might have sagged in a tired sigh. "Sometimes, she has trouble remembering things clearly," she mumbled, "Let's not talk about Subcon…"
Hat Kid inwardly winced. She guessed she'd managed to hit a sore spot anyway. She didn't know that ghosts could lose their memories. Wasn't that partly why most of them stuck around? Because they were latching on to things in their old lives? Then again, it wasn't like she knew all that much about the paranormal anyway. Before she got used to Snatcher, she'd been plenty scared of ghosts.
She didn't know what conversation to make after that either. However, after a minute, the young Dweller continued, "So what's it like, staying with the Prince?"
The child raised a brow and lowered her arm after they'd checked its length, "What do you mean?"
"Well, I think you're lucky you get to stay in the castle is all," she floated back over to the paper, levitating the piece of graphite to etch down yet another measurement, "He leaves the door open all the time for everyone, even the spirits, but it's not like any of us really get to see him much. He always seems busy."
"He used to be much more social," her mother added, "but that was years ago. A price of his status, I suppose…"
"What does Moonjumper do?" Hat Kid asked, "I mean, I know he's the prince here, but…"
"He protects us," the lavender ghost replied, marking down the last number. The other moved back to put the tape away. "To put it briefly, His Highness works hard to keep the peace with the spirits of the Horizon. He helps make our home a safe place for all of us and any other ghosts that might show up. He also works with the goats sometimes too, and has watchmen looking after their waypoint—the one you entered from."
That did sound like a lot. Snatcher did much of the same for Subcon Forest too, although he typically hung it under the banner of his control rather than an honest desire to defend anyone. That and he tried to trap and enslave anyone that showed up through his contracts. Although she was still technically working under Moonjumper in order to find the Time Pieces, she was glad she didn't have to sign over her soul this time.
"I met the goblins," she said, "They seem to really like Moonjumper."
"I'm not surprised," the Dweller bobbed her head in a kind of shrug, "He's helped a lot of spirits like that. The goblins didn't have a place to go, so he gave them one. They mostly keep to themselves, but they do sometimes give us gems and other ores as a way of thanking him. The same can be said for a lot of other spirits: They make their homes some place nearby and help us out now and then in return. And the dangerous ones are kept back."
Eager to get to work, her mother grabbed the paper with the same, ghostly energy she used before and darted back up the stairs without much of a goodbye. Both the living and deceased girls watched her go before continuing their conversation:
"Honestly, I haven't gotten to talk to him as much as you'd think," Hat Kid adjusted the straps of her pack out of habit, eying her feet. She'd gotten more information about him in one day talking to other people than she had in all of their own brief chats. His rare shows of emotion didn't help her make any sense of him either.
She thought of the purple Dweller that had jumped her too. The teenage phantom spoke so highly of Moonjumper that Hat Kid was afraid to bring it up—not to mention the former's panicked look was still fresh in her mind. She thought of his desperation to "escape" this place. Maybe there were certain things she was better off keeping to herself for the time being, at least until she understood more. Thus far, opinions of the ghostly prince were as polarized as they could be.
The other shook her masked head, "I can't exactly say I have either. Even when I was alive, I never really was brave enough to talk to him. I guess I'm still not…"
If his own subjects couldn't reach out to him and didn't know him well enough, then Hat Kid's own chances looked slim. Barring if a Time Piece happened to land right on his head and tear open a purple rift, anyway.
"I hope I didn't keep you too late," she continued in a soft mutter, "You're probably pretty busy too."
"Nah, I'm glad I come stop by." Beyond needing a distraction to bring her back to reality after what she'd witnessed in the forest, the alien had never been inside a Dweller's home. Granted, Subcon's lived in the hollowed-out shapes of large, old tree trunks, but all of them were still too shy to have ever invited inside one. She probably did need to leave though. If Moonjumper was expecting her to report back, he was probably wondering where she was by now.
The Dweller brightened back up a bit, helping guide her to the door, "I'll let you know when your new outfit is done. You can come back then."
It was a promise. Feeling a little better now, Hat Kid was actually looking forward to whatever kind of look it would be, but she guessed it would have to be a surprise until then. Stepping out of the home, she gave it one, last look over her shoulder before hurrying off to the castle. Through the grids of the highest window, she could spot the faceless seamstress staring back at her—watching her go. She waved at her.
The red ghost hesitated for a moment, head cocked to one side and the end of her tail mildly twitching as though she were anxious, before she shouted back, "Goodbye!"
