Dislocation of Self

Chapter 2: You What!?

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In the throes of being confined to her mind, it did all it could to entertain her. At first, she dreamed of strange robots that danced the Macarena and calculated large sums of stupidity.

"Moo! Has the royal blondness intelligence much?? Mooo..Moo! "A rusty pink robot examined a piece of fabric that had information scrawled on it in vanilla ice cream. His polka-dotted pal took the fabric and fed it to a silver-haired goat that flapped its fins. Repulsed, it spat the fabric out and sang, "Intelligence too small to process... feed again." These robots suddenly became little winged pens that oinked and ate fish. Lucca clapped her toenails and cheered. Zooka, the maroon quill, sneezed. Then, it became much, much darker.

She was walking through a dark but strangely familiar corridor in what appeared to be Guardia Castle. An eerie silence echoed all around her. What happened here? So horribly empty, so horribly devoid of life. This could NOT be the same castle. No warmth, no light, no identity. It resounded in her skin. Something was terribly wrong. Apprehension slithered up her spine. Gotta get out... It was coming. Leave, leave, leave! The hairs on her neck screamed in warning. Move, Lucca, move! But she couldn't. Pure fear rushed through her veins and she was ensnared. Unable to move, she lost her balance and fell to her knees.

A voice devoid of emotion reached out to her. "Luuucccca...." Startled, she swallowed her fear and turned.

"Lucca!" exclaimed a familiar voice from the outside.

It shattered the glass around her, and the nightmare ended. Before she had fully awakened, the warm cocoon of furs around her lulled her back to sleep.

Magus regarded the girl skeptically. Normally, he could have cared less if the girl was plagued by dreams. However, she had been in critical condition when he found her, and he did not intend to have a repeat.

Turning away, he sighed and examined the erratic meat he was cooking. Hunting was not good today and he had to resort to using Fire 2. It was a miracle he hadn't completely charred the rabbit. In fact, only a quarter of it had managed to remain raw and survive. Rations like that were barely enough for even Alfador, who was curled up at his side. He withdrew the finished meat, laid it on the flat rock, and turned to gaze at his patient.

Her state of health was much more improved and he had been very relieved when her skin returned to its normal color. It had been a deathly blue a matter of hours ago. Lucca's chance of survival had been so bleak that he even went so far as to pour the last of his elixir down her throat. There was a severe lack of supplies, but he supposed that a restock was long overdue. What really mattered was the issue of how she had gotten here. Weren't the gates forever closed? Perhaps another dilemma had arisen.

His contemplative thoughts were soon thwarted when the girl in question began to stir. She rubbed dazedly at her eyes and groaned tiredly. When the motion failed to chase the sleep away, she rolled over, buried her face in the fur, and prepared to doze off.

Soft.. fluffy.. Fur... FUR!? She bolted upright and found herself wrapped rather tightly in multiple layers of fur. Her eyes were swirling with confusion, as drool elegantly cascaded down her chin. Summed up, it painted quite the picture.

"Did you drop by for a bath?" inquired a familiar, aristocratic voice.

Lucca whipped her head in his direction and would've toppled over if she hadn't been so restrained. "Magus!?" She rubbed furiously at her eyes as though she could shake the blurriness from them.

"I hope you weren't. You won't find one here," he continued nonchalantly, as though she had never spoken. Though his words weren't tinged with arrogance, smugness was rolling off of him in waves.

Irritably pushing the pesky furs off, she groped her way towards the bluish, purplish spot. (What nerve!) When he was finally within her range of sight, she found that the mage was indeed real and was open to be smacked. Except... he was pointedly looking away.

"You might want to put those furs back on.."

It was then that she realized her severe lack of clothing. With a shriek, she blindly dove into the sea of furs behind her. Magus chuckled. "Intending to join Ayla's tribe, are we?"

Lucca angrily sputtered a jumble of almost incoherent words. "How? Why? Wh- wh- then, you... oo.. robe... ERGGGH!!!" Her hands ferociously twitched in the folds of the furs.

"Hmm??" he asked innocently. Magus knew exactly what she was getting at, but it was fare more fun to torture her into asking.

Aggravated, she struggled up to her feet and growled out, "You know what I'm talking about!"

Alfador, awoken by the commotion, scurried off towards the back of the cave.

"No... I don't believe I do." His eyes resignedly followed the cat as it faded from sight.

Her reluctance to continue was rather obvious. In an attempt to gather her words, she lowered her eyes. "My... bathrobe."

"Oh!" he sparked with fake realization, "That raggy thing with little pink rabbit designs?"

She sent a blazing glare in his direction.

"I burned it."

"You what!?"

Lucca didn't have to see to tell that the bastard was smirking.

"It was rather hideous in a disgustingly cute manner. Besides," he said informatively, "the fire needed kindling."

"That's not what I'm asking!"

"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side and watched her struggle with her words.

"How'd it...how'd it... come off?"

She punctuated the question by turning a bright shade of red and burying her face in the furs. The glint of amusement in the mage's eyes faded and his voice softened. "You were soaked,' he spoke gently. "It would've caused you more harm if it hadn't been removed."

Lucca processed this bit of info and reluctantly sighed, "Well.. thank you, I guess.."

Magus shifted slightly on his spot on the rock floor.

"But... what am I going to wear?"

He grunted and rubbed at his forehead as though it would prevent the impending headache. Sadly, it didn't.

A/N: Please review! Criticism is great. OOCness? Too short? Spelling errors?