femslash february 2022 prompt 19: isolation.

There is a Persistent Longevity to Solitude

Decades.

That's how long Gloria wasted away in Thorney Towers. There wasn't an exact quantifier to pinpoint a proper number. The days were enshrouded in ennui. Moments of clarity did occur when the staff was still present, but somewhere down the road, Gloria hadn't been able to remember the seasons, the holidays, or even her birthday.

But she recalls episodes. Wrath burned her body whenever her trophy was moved, and tears stung her eyes when she poured over her mother's suicide note. Sharp laughter emitted from her throat when a kind janitor said a pun during a therapy session. Mania upon mania had been a phrase used by a nurse scorning her when she refused to leave the spotlight in the garden. Through it all, the emotions that had dictated her thoughts had been the infrequent times when she remembered the month.

She's moved on from Thorney Towers. She's started over. With the help of a little boy with a big mind, Gloria had freed herself from the clutches of the asylum. She had been able to turn her life around, earning money from appearances on talk shows by discussing mental health and the merciless backlash from the media that had once adored her when she plunged into her mourning. The money flows into her bank account from winning lawsuits against music corporations clinging to her records or performances without Gloria seeing a single dime. The public, she had realized, still loved Gloria Von Gouton. Life is good, serene, and she is at peace.

Sitting in her flat with the walls painted a soft green, she sips her tea. It's chamomile, Fred's favorite. Only a hint of mint soothes her throat. It's all she needs as she surveys the relics from her past produced by fans and music studios. Trophies fill a mahogany desk. Framed photographs line the walls of various periods of her life. There is a gap, of course. She pretends that it doesn't matter, digging her toes into the shag rug, hearing the door to the kitchen creaking open.

Cassie smiles at her. She carries a new pitcher of piping hot tea and a bottle of store bought honey. It's a kind that neither of them prefers, but there aren't many opportunities in the city for beekeeping. She takes her seat across from Gloria at the intimate desk, pouring herself a cup before putting the sterling silver pitcher between them.

"Oh, it smells heavenly," Gloria exclaims.

"The secret is the honey. It might not be fresh, but it works," she replies with a knowing grin. She raises the pitcher over Gloria's cup when she holds it out. As the liquid streams from the spout, she lets it fill to the rim. It's exactly as Gloria likes it, who watches as the steam rises from the sweet-smelling drink.

In a way, it's like the steam is escaping. It moves beyond where Gloria can easily grasp. She cannot touch it, just as she could not touch any kind of hope to flee from Thorney Towers those many years ago.

"Gloria?" Cassie's gentle voice breaks her concentration. Her expression, one of concern, softens. "Is something wrong? You seemed lost in thought again." She tilts her head. "This is the third time during our little tea party that it's happened. You can tell me if something is troubling you."

She flicks her head up, and the words bounce off her tongue. "How did you endure it? That strangling loneliness?"

She regrets the question immediately. But her mind had ached as they chatted. Something had stirred within her like the little spoon she used in the drink to mix in a pinch of sugar. She could trust Cassie with anything, knowing her beloved had also suffered a similar fate, but as Cassie bites her lower lip, Gloria wishes she had better control over her spontaneity.

Cassie hesitates. Her fingers brush against the honey bottle before resting on the silver rim of her teacup. "There were many times when I didn't. Times when I cried. Times when I wanted to just-" She strangles the air. "-I don't know how to describe it." Tapping her temple, she sighs. "I thought I was protecting myself. If I could stay there, I wouldn't be hurt, but in the end, I just ran away. It didn't solve anything. In my head, I wasn't able to help anyone at any point, so I became that myth in the woods."

Gloria fidgets with the hem of her cotton dress. "Were they expecting you to solve something for them?"

A bitterness crosses her features. She grabs the honey and squeezes a generous dollop into her tea. As it sets, she replies, "At the time, I thought that. We had believed Helmut was dead, and Lucy and Ford were gone. I became lost, too, within the illusion that we survivors mutually agreed upon. We had to become the Psychonauts for the sake of psychics everywhere." She slips one bony finger through the handle and raises it to her lips. She waits a moment, sniffing the drink, letting the aroma waft around her, before downing it in one gulp. Heaving out a sigh, Cassie licks her lips and returns to Gloria with eyes that border on misty. "None of us were coping well. Otto was calling the shots because, well, one of us had to be in charge, even if he was in pain. Bob and Boolie had their respective issues. While the Psychonauts were growing, we were disconnecting. There was no thread holding us together, so I cut mine."

A copy of Mindswarm sits on the closest shelf. Gloria eyes it when Cassie pours herself another cup. She wonders if Cassie had ever believed in the words she had penned. Mindswarm was a means for Cassie to escape from her miserable life, but gazing at her now, her chin tucked to her chest, Gloria decides against reading a passage to comfort her.

Instead, she speaks what comes to mind. "I can't imagine the gravity of what you felt. At the asylum, time seemed to stand still. I was getting older, but it was all the same. Lost in my head, trapped by the past and my mother's words, only able to remember the day based on my mood," she murmurs, and she reaches across the table for Cassie. When their fingertips meet, their nail gloss a matching muted pink, she leans forward. "But I'm so glad I met you through that kid, Cassie. I'm so grateful that I know you. I'm happy to have met a woman of the same heart."

The pitcher next to their hands emits a warmth that spreads through her. She knows Cassie feels it as well, watching the realization dawn on her face. Cassie's lips tremble, but they part in a grin showing her teeth.

"You know, I suppose the feeling never goes away. At least, not fully. It'll nip you when you least expect it, like whether you're nostalgic or settle down for the evening." Cassie laces her fingers with Gloria. "But it's wonderful knowing that we'll never be alone again."

"We have each other," Gloria croons, and their fingers press down on their hands, feeling wrinkled skin and bones that had been calloused by time.