Lambdadelta half-expected to wake up in the morning and see the world entirely in black, the floors covered in blood and her lithe, bare body tainted with large, gaping wounds, unknown filth and tear stains all over her face.
So it was a wonder to wake up and see the royal pink curtains adorning the door to her balcony, her usual dressing table and her other belongings in her room. Everything was where it was supposed to be, and instead of the nauseating smell of rotting corpses and death, Lambdadelta caught the scent of sugared confectioneries and perfume which replaced what she expected to smell. She woke up on her soft king-sized bed, which was a large contrast compared to the floors she slept on (or was she imagining that as well?) because there were supposed to be broken pieces of glass on the floor which were supposed to scratch their way against her pretty skin, drawing blood mercilessly as she twisted and turned. It seemed too good to be true for the Witch of Certainty, who ironically wasn't very certain of her own surroundings, questioning her mind whether it was real or just another delusion the Logic Error set upon her. And who knows?
She could be imagining all of this in her mind, when in reality she's still back there. Naked, bruised, shivering and shuddering as she was locked in a place that seemed inescapable.
Everything that happened 'yesterday' could be a lie.
Even that could be a delusional dream generated by her already insane mind.
And instead of regaining her sanity as soon as she got out (or did she, Lambdadelta mused), she could have lost it a long time ago.
Lambdadelta even touched the hem of her pink nightgown, to see if it was real. Maybe when you're shamelessly naked in a desolate place for a long period of time, you start having those delusions where you're wearing clothes again, probably?
Everything seemed worthless.
Everything seemed totally useless.
Impractical.
Irrelevant.
Not important.
And maybe she-
...No.
...NO.
Lambdadelta gripped the sheets tightly, as if she wanted to tear it apart with her bare fingers. With a flash of anger on her face, the Witch of Certainty forced herself to acknowledge the one fact that she herself wasn't certain of ever since the Logic Error happened, and she opened her mouth to repeat the single sentence that could hopefully make her stop thinking about it. It was like a parasite, a tumor in her brain, because the memory was simply too hard to filter and forget. The muscles in her arms tightened and stiffened, and she wondered if they squeezed themselves tight enough, they might just burst in her skin, cause massive internal bleeding and render her arms helpless.
"I made it out," she began, speaking to herself quietly. "I made it out. I made it out. I made it out. I made it..."
But it didn't work.
It just didn't work.
Frustrated, angered and scared, Lambdadelta opted to throw the music box on her bedside table at the door, but she begrudgingly controlled herself, taking deep breaths.
...
Breathe in, Lambdadelta. Breathe out.
...
...Well.
She still has anger left in her even though she was supposed to be broken and robbed of emotions.
At least she has that.
Mendacium Speculorum
Chapter 2: Declared
If one observed really, really closely, they would find that Featherine Augustus Aurora wasn't the type of witch who delighted in table manners.
The far, opposite ends of the long, dining table in the great dining hall were occupied as always, having the most powerful witch in the universe seat at one end. It had been a long time since a witch or a guest of honor graced the Witch Council's majestically regal dining hall, where they had the finest of dishes and exquisite delicacies during formal and casual breakfasts, lunches and dinners. However, this morning was different though, for instead of the usual one hundred and one witches seated for breakfast at the main table, they were supposed to stand at attention from both sides of the table, left and right without ingesting any morsel of food for the morning. Two lines, fifty witches each, as per custom.
Only thing is, the line on the right had forty-three witches instead, with Lady Lambdadelta occupying the usually desolate seat at the opposite end of the table and six other witches standing at attention beside her like an entourage.
Now it does sound rather ridiculous, and Featherine couldn't agree more. The Senate of Witches was almost equivalent to living in a palace, and each ranked witch had their own rooms in the many towers of the castle, even though they had certain residences or kakeras to reside in. And when it comes to staying (even overnight) in such a palace, etiquette must be exercised. The entourage of witches were necessary though; it is customary for the duelists to be accompanied out of respect and the duelist who has a lower rank than her opponent would be treated as if she had been elevated many, many ranks above her current one or, if possible, the same rank as her opponent. Featherine herself had six witches beside her, which left the line on the right quite short of the supposed number of witches too.
But to be honest, she didn't mind that.
Featherine just wondered when will Lambdadelta ever begin a conversation, much less talk.
It just bothered her like an itch. Pensively looking at the blonde-haired witch wearing a light pink gown with transparent bell sleeves and a necklace with a tiny, red bow to match, Featherine was rather appalled at how Lambdadelta's appearance could easily deceive any unsuspecting creature around her. There she was, eating daintily and silently as if she wanted nothing to bother her at all, giving the mistaken impression of a fine lady no older than fifteen. Of course, Lambdadelta wasn't a witch to be trifled with, nor was she that young, but ever since the Logic Error struck her, she could be mistaken for a weak, mute girl since she absolutely refused to talk unless someone asked her a question or when etiquette called for it.
Oh my.
I've been thinking too much for my own good lately, Featherine thought to herself.
"Is the food to your liking, Lady Lambdadelta?" Featherine asked, having gotten bored of the silence in the hall. Lambdadelta merely stopped cutting the lettuce on her place and slowly positioned her utensils in such a fashion that indicated that she would engage in a conversation during the meal.
"Yes. And you?"
"It's rather bland, don't you think?" she smiled.
"It's edible, and I think not. If you want to start a conversation, Lady Aurora," Lambdadelta remarked, "then you should get on to the point about the subject you wish to discuss."
Featherine chuckled lightly to herself, snapping her fingers as a witch brought her a goblet of water. Downing it down, she put the goblet back onto the tray and without anymore regard for dining etiquette, she put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands. "I'm very sorry for delaying then. What I wish to discuss is about the layout of the game that we are to play soon. You don't mind if the rest of the council listens, do you, Lady Lambdadelta?"
Lambdadelta looked at Beatrice, who was silently hoping that nothing disastrous will happen at the moment. "I don't mind. Not at all."
Weaving the layout of the game with her gloved fingers, Featherine drafted many mechanics of the game as she made it appear in the air with her magic. As the little threads of magic weaved together rapidly, the witches were whispering to one another and were simply curious as to what game Featherine has up her sleeve. She had masterminded the best games in history; let it be murder, torture, investigations and her most famous: overlapping genres. Her overlapping genre games were impeccable, for she would use one genre to dampen and conceal the true genre within in order to confuse her opponents. Lambdadelta herself was rather curious as she paid attention to the little threads of magic joining themselves like a little puzzle of sorts.
And then, that was it.
A closed room game.
"That's it?" a witch blurted out. "A closed room game?"
That's far too simple a game for Featherine Augustus Aurora!
Featherine shook her head, giggling delightfully to herself. Snapping her fingers again, the layout had changed somewhat to show the interior of the central matter of the game; the confinement of Featherine's blue-haired miko inside the room. As Lambdadelta analyzed the situation, it seemed that the game was a scrapped game which Featherine had played with an unknown opponent long ago until they became terribly bored of it and Featherine decided to just leave it there after the game was passed on to her to solve as a keepsake. Well, of course Featherine wouldn't solve it by herself; she's done that so many times already, and at times, it just gets droll and boring. Beatrice and Lambdadelta couldn't help but pity the poor miko as she looked so helpless, stripped of all hope and so delusional.
It was as if Lambdadelta was looking at herself.
It was as if Featherine whipped out a magic mirror and reflected her nightmares right back at her.
"To tell you the truth, I sort of recycled this game and saved it from the scrap heap," the Witch of Drama callously giggled. "You see, it was a bit troublesome to make a new one, and while I was having quite a tussle about it, I thought, why not use one of my old ones? It was so long ago, how many years has it been? So I took it into my own hands and tinkered with it, but unfortunately I forgot the mechanics of the game and the Logic Error happened. And I thought; this would be a good game to finish. With a little twist, of course. Problematic games are the best, aren't they, Lady Lambdadelta? So I invited my miko to see this beautiful game, which unfortunately was rather barren and unfinished..."
"...And I tricked her into it," Featherine finished.
At the corner of her eye, Lambdadelta could see many witches contorting their faces into expressions that displayed full horror at the fact that Featherine did such a thing. A Reader fainted, causing her Master to help her up and support her to keep her standing, but the truth be told; it was a despicable act during that time in the Senate of Witches. The witches would handle their games with full responsibility, although some of them wouldn't, but they wouldn't go so far as to purposely condemn someone in a Logic Error. And when Featherine spoke her final sentence of the story, they could sense the twisted amusement in her voice, completely giving away her regal facade. Beatrice put her hands to her mouth, thoroughly shocked and terrified that Featherine was reveling in this...this...madness.
But when the council looked at Lambdadelta, they were shocked to see that she bore no reaction at all. Instead, she clinked her utensils together, signifying that she had finished her meal and leaned back into her chair.
"Aha. Very good. I asked about the layout of the game, Lady Aurora. Not how you trapped your Reader in it," Lambdadelta spoke directly and coldly, and rather calmly.
Featherine smiled.
She liked direct opponents who demanded what they specifically wanted.
And Lambdadelta was a master in that; getting what she wants with that sharp tongue of hers.
"Alright then, Lady Lambdadelta," Featherine replied with a hint of humor in her tone. "It consists of a closed room, as you've seen. But it isn't the usual closed rooms that all of you know and played. It's just a closed room she's in, not the proper locked room mystery. You know those games where you suddenly wake up in a room and find that you can't get out, nor know how did you land there in the first place? This one...requires my miko to do all the work instead of us. What you have to do, Lady Lambdadelta, is figure out a way for her. Create possibilities and with your Certainty," with that, Featherine crossed her legs and smirked a sultry smirk at the other witch, "we'll see if you can help my miko to get out."
It sounded pretty easy. Think for the trapped person. Do her thinking as you illuminate the way for her.
But Lambdadelta knew it wasn't.
"An ontological mystery, is that right?" Lambdadelta affirmed, prompting Featherine to clap her hands with a little "Brava!" escaping her lips.
Oh, how she loved how her opponent got on so quickly! Featherine was simply delighted; Lambdadelta was so suitable for the title of her opponent!
"Yes, that's precisely correct! I simply love how you get on so quickly, Lady Lambdadelta! And one more thing," Featherine wiped her mouth, placing the cloth on the table after she had done so. "There is something that I need to ask you personally. Will you care to listen?"
"What is it?"
"Do you believe that my miko can solve the Logic Error?" Featherine asked, swirling the liquid in her goblet as she awaited the other's answer.
Ah.
She wanted her to confirm with certainty.
Lambdadelta knew that Featherine wanted her to make a certain point that might determine the miko's fate. Words were pretty meaningless everywhere in the universe, but when it came to this, a statement made by the Witch of Certainty would be the absolute outcome depending on the person's effort. Needless to say, Lambdadelta really didn't care much about the game after all, seeing that everything became pointless in her eyes after her ordeal, but there was just something that was tugging at her gut.
There was something that was telling her to trust again.
There was something that was telling her to believe in the unjust victim trapped in the box.
There was something that told her...
that there was still hope.
Lambdadelta could bring that hope.
And it was truly a heart-wrenching sight; the words "Master...Where are you...?" being echoed in that dark room with all the deformities around her clawing everything, ripping her hopes and trashing her dreams.
But the miko never gave up. Lambdadelta would give her that.
...
...
...Tsk.
Lambdadelta decided to give it another shot.
"I am certain that she will solve the Logic Error," Lambdadelta declared. "Required that she doesn't breach my expectations."
The Endless Witch smiled, knowing that Lambdadelta indeed had a good heart buried deep in her stand offish facade. Many witches were rather surprised at her confidence upon her own certainty, but the person who had the most thrill of them all was none other than Featherine herself. It was simply wonderful, everything was so smoothly done and easily prepared to fight against such a worthy, worthy opponent. Everything about Lambdadelta was simply delightful, simply suitable to be the ideal opponent she had wanted for quite some time after living and dying and living and dying, over and over again.
Except one thing though.
When it came to these things, Lady Lambdadelta was a very predictable person.
Maybe it was because of her human-like heart.
Oh well.
Featherine knew she'd come to love it.
"Very well, Lady Lambdadelta," she replied, still having the smile on her face. "I have anticipated that from none else than you."
But oho.
She'd anticipate much, much more from the Witch of Certainty.
For starters, Featherine would very much anticipate the taste of her beautiful, flawless flesh.
In the dark room, the blue-haired girl assumed a fetal position on the invisible floor, stained with blood, water and other kinds of unspeakable filth.
Everything was just out to get her, she assumed. The rats on the walls, the ghostly contact of unknown creatures against her bare skin and the mere fact that no one was there simply horrified her. How long had she been there already? Her Master simply wanted to show her the beautiful mechanics of the game that was to be held against that nice witch who gave her kimchi long ago, but in the blink of an eye, she found herself in this place.
Where were the beautiful things that her Master wanted to show her?
Why aren't there any doors in here?
Why is it...so...cold...?
And by instinct, the miko covered her entire nude body, stained with the sickening scent of blood in an attempt to keep herself warm. Her teeth gritted, her body shivered, and she was just so embarrassed, so alone, so uncared for. She could be sitting down on her favorite blue chair and sip her favorite umeboshi tea as she read aloud one of Featherine's stories with much vigor in her heart. Instead, everything looked so hopeless, so desolate, so...so...
Blank.
Everything was black and blank.
And suddenly, one of the rats bared its fangs, lunging at her to simply bite off her flesh.
"N-No...Leave me alone!" she exclaimed, narrowly dodging the rat's attack. Her eyes widened with primal fear as she saw it disappear and rejoin the other rats in the blink of an eye, eyeing her with a vengeful look as if she had done something wrong to it. Running to another corner in the room, she curled up into a ball and looked up into the blank ceiling of the closed room.
She could still feel the recent attacks of the other rats on her skin, leaving gaping wounds that displayed her bloodied muscles.
"Master...where are you...? W-Why aren't you here yet...? I-I'm scared, Master...I'm really, really...s-s-scared..."
Please save me.
Who wouldn't want to get their hands on the one obsession they have?
A/N: Guuuten morgen everyone...yawn.
I could say that I've been a bit short on this chapter, and it's still a bit boring because I thought I should take things slow and introductive, xP. And lately since Christmas's coming, I've got a lot of plans on my hand, xDDD. So it's like: "PLEASE CAN I GO HOME NOW I NEED TO FINISH UP A CHAPTER" and it'll just be stuck in my little brain due to me stuffing down Christmas buffets, :3
To confirm your suspicions; yes, Featherine's obsessed. With Lambda.
Thanks so much for the reviews! :'D They really get me hyped up to write :'DDD *gets sparkly eyed anticipating for moar reviews, xD*
-Densetsu-no-Maguro.