OPENING - THE NIGHTMARE REFLECTED IN THE DREAM THAT DAY
"Popoi! What did you do?" An average-sized, average-looking, average-everything girl—no more than maybe five or six years old—slumps to the ground, soft eyes half-lidded and her limbs limp, like a puppet waiting to be moved.
"Ain't done nyothin', meow," the black cat responds, hopping into his master's arms. "Gave her a lil' fright is all! But, you know, I didn't expect things to escalate that quickly, meow."
"Oh, my my," the woman says, cradling the mischievous cat in her arms. Accord straightened her posture, walked over to the girl, and lifted her chin up, peering into the dark eyes of an unconscious girl. "Miss Amitie and Miss Arle with most certainly be displeased... That young Miss Ally too, despite being away on travel, would hate to hear of this news."
Popoi cackled in meows. "Nyot so sure that Ally girl is even capable of hatred," he muttered. "Although, I'm sure it is more than capable." Accord shook her head, signaling the cat to stop talking.
"I...think we can use her," the lady mumbled, admiring the girl's form. "She does seem to work very well as a blank slate, a vessel to hold magical power. Her constitution is quite perfect, in fact. Call it an... experiment, if you will. I'll have to reconvene with the Dark Prince and Her Highness about this matter."
"What about the other one?"
Accord froze, and looked down at the cat. "Which one? You play the pronoun game too much, Popoi," she muttered. "But if I know you at all, I know what you're talking about, and I'm not quite sure. Though, at some point, the little lord of House Salwin will unseal it. I hope he doesn't." She turned back to the girl, passed out on the stone floor. Accord smiled gently-not a good sign, at all.
"And you, my dear, in time you will be of great use to the Princess despite having no magic," the woman whispered, crouching down and cupping the girl's cheek in her hand. "Not yet."
"Yes, you will be the perfect mage... the Princess of Radiant Lights."
"I love you."
And that was the last Ringo Ando heard of that voice that had taken refuge in her dreams the last few days.
The nightmare contained in the dream, and the promise they made that day…
The black shadow in the white void again...
A strange encounter, from an unknown point in time? Ringo felt as if she couldn't recall something important, that she had finally found rest from walking for a long time, but why had she been walking in the first place? What would she need to rest from? Sure, helping out her parents and studying were both pretty tiresome, but she felt this weird sense of calm only felt after a storm of hard work.
And who was this person she had to meet...?
"Let's meet again, okay? I'm sure we will."
Again, the voice rang out, and Ringo felt a shadow move over the bright sun and her. A drooly smile pierced her memory and formed a visual in her imagination; ah, but this was a familiar sight, wasn't it?
Familiar...? Familiar how?
It was just a dream, she reminded herself. Dreams are just a reflection of the subconscious, which probably meant she worried more than she needed to. Ringo hastily got up to go downstairs and eat breakfast, forget about it all-
There was no downstairs. In fact, this didn't even seem like her house, or anywhere in particular.
"Miss, you're finally awake."
A young man—or a woman? it was hard to tell—with disheveled turquoise hair and an equally disheveled grey vest and white shirt walked into the room where she had found herself in randomly, holding a tray of biscuits and water. "Good morning, miss... Apple-Lookin' Lady," they called out, chuckling at their own nickname. "Oops, sorry 'bout that. I kinda give nicknames to everyone I meet, ahaa." They set down the tray on the nightstand beside the bed where she woke up, and looked at her expectantly. The redhead slowly reached for a biscuit, looking to and from the servant and their snacks.
Their voice...
"No worries! Everyone likes apples," Ringo replied, nervously laughing. "So... how did I get here?" The servant sighed, and smiled. They opened their mouth to say something, but hesitated. "I...found you outside," they finally said. "So I carried you in. The funny-hat candyman made a makeshift room for you to stay in–it's quite impressive, considering the time he took to make it." Their nervous glancing around seemed almost peculiar—as if he was somewhat in fear of the "funny-hat candyman".
"Thank you! Really, thanks a lot," Ringo replied, disregarding their nervousness to express her gratitude. "I don't recall being unconscious before... Maybe I suffered a head injury." The servant got up, attempted to straighten long, tangled hair, and walked backwards towards the doorway, never taking their eyes off her for a second. It was a bit creepy, to say the least. "You're very welcome," they replied, turning their body but not their gaze to leave.
"I'm sure we'll meet again."
That voice...!
Ringo jumped up and reached for the figure exiting the room. "Wait!" she shouted, following the waiter turning the corner. "What's your name? I really need to know-" As they turned the corner, she followed up seconds behind. And as Ringo turned the corner, the owner of voice in her dreams, whom she had wanted to meet for so long—
vanished into thin air.
"The world slumbers under the dawn, and dreams of time infinite. Turn the blank page, and write a new melody once more."
"That's a lovely poem, Miss Apple-Lookin' Lady," the turquoise-haired servant replied. Tall, thin, not well nor sickly of a build, seeming to be jointless (?), and looking about her age—if not a tad older—when coupled with a kind smile, she felt her heart skip a beat. "Did you write it?" they continued. "I really think it's a pretty poem." Their long hair draped over the side of their body like a curtain, and they set down a vanilla roll cake on the sepia wooden table.
"Not quite," Ringo replied, her eyes darting from the boy's sky blue eyes and the whiteness of her very neat cream cake. "A friend of mine wrote it. Her name's Amitie, you probably don't know who she is. She ran out of solutions as to how to complete it, so she asked me to find inspiration. I'm not exactly a poetic person, but I figured a cafe would help." She let out a light giggle and sighed happily.
Ah, but this was...?
Ringo was sure of it now. The voice in her dreams matched the one she was hearing now—it couldn't have been a coincidence.
"Why ask for sweets, then? Perhaps as a light refreshment to your inspiration-finding?" they asked. "I personally wouldn't like to have sweets, especially with a lovely lady like you here at our patisserie, much sweeter than any confectionery here." They took off their ivory-white gloves and traced their hand along the side of her face, before laughing to themself. "My apologies, Miss Apple-Lookin' Lady. Lemres doesn't really want me to do that to customers, but I couldn't help it."
"You flatter me, sir," Ringo replied, laughing alongside them. "You're rather charming yourself, in your appearance and mostly in your speech—though, on the topic of appearance, I would like to inquire as to why your hair is in such disarray." She pointed to the waiter's long and unruly hair, flufts and tufts this way and that. "Come. Turn around, and I will do something about it."
"Oh! but it's a normal occurrence for me since it's always like this no matter how much I brush it. You mustn't force yourself to; either or, thank you, Miss Apple Girl," they said, suddenly switching nicknames and turning around. Ringo pulled out a red satin ribbon—no patterns or decals of note, quite the ordinary hair tie—and wrapped it around their hair in a bow to form a fluffy ponytail.
"How does it feel?" she asked, her expression clearly betraying her pride in her neat ribbon bow. "Neater, I hope?
"The servant gasped in awe and cheered to themself. "Th-thank you, miss," they stuttered, turning to meet her eyes and bowing. "This will make working a lot more convenient, I'll have to properly thank you later, miss... um, speaking of which, what's your name?"
"It's Ringo Andou," she replied, flashing a kind smile to their joyful surprise. "Feel free to just call me Ringo, no 'miss' or anything necessary! And you? What's your name?" The servant stopped for a moment—to process the situation, or to assess it?—and smiled back just as cheerily.
"I'm Ecolo," they finally breathed out, chuckling to themself in their mid-range, playfully cheery tone. "You, Ringo, you strike me as a wonderfully cute and clever girl! I'm sure that whatever you manage to accomplish, weird poem or not, you'll pass with flying colors."
Ringo blinked once, twice, thrice, and her eyes widened. "Complimented by a stranger, that's new," she replied. "Thank you, too, Ecolo. I do think, however, you should get back to work."
Ecolo gasped, and laughed as nervously as their smile was becoming. "That's true," they admitted and turned around, their gaze locking with Ringo's just for a moment before they looked away again. "Enjoy your cake, Ringo. And have a lovely day!"
"You as well, Ecolo," she responded, sighing gently. The aroma of sweets and teas wafted through the room, and Ringo heard naught but the quiet chatter of other customers and the tune that the waiter Ecolo was humming. And yet—
For a split second, she thought she heard them say something unusual.
"Doesn't it feel like we're a perfect match for each other?"
Chitters of cicadas created an abundance of white noise, but it did not drown its voice she had gotten so accustomed to.
"You're so pretty. Inside, and out."
Ringo thought she heard the black shadow's voice call out in her room. Her room was very plain; the average kind of room you'd find for someone living in the shopping district of the city. It was a lot different from where Amitie lived, or the buildings near Lemres' cafe—it was just your average room. Ringo seated herself on the bed, changed into some snug pink pajamas, closed the lights, and slid herself under the sheets.
"You're so cute, and you have a sharp mind too. I knew it from the get-go, Ringo."
...?
Ringo opened her mouth to call out in the darkness, but strangely nothing came out. Faint shapes of her desk and a bookshelf were the only ones apparent. She sat up, focused her eyes in the black-
And was met with a pair of shining blue eyes, staring at her from the other end of her bed. A drooly smile shone wide in the darkness.
A scream would have surfaced if not for again, nothing coming out of her mouth. Ringo would've thought there was a ghost in her room had she not recognized the familiar silhouette. Which was not a good thing—in fact, very concerning.
An attempt to back off was met with the hard wooden back of the bed. The black shadow had all but disappeared—rather, it seemed to be a single entity with that Ecolo from the cafe—and seated on the other side of the bed, cackling in a scarily non-aggressive way.
"You might wonder how I got into your house. Well, through the window, silly!" Ecolo laughed out, pointing back to an open window, translucent white curtains billowing in the cool wind of a summer night. "It was a real hassle to try and pry it open, you know." The small smile they wore portrayed a sort of gentle insanity, and they crept closer.
Ecolo shushed her with a long, thin finger, as if she was able to talk at all. "Don't worry your pretty little heart. I'm not here to hurt you," they whispered. "I just came to make a request of you." They sighed, and their smile faded into indifference. "I'd never try to hurt you in any way. You can count on that."
"Anyway, I'm not sure I want you associating with those... three, two maybe? weirdos you keep hanging around."
Ringo hesitated, staring them down straight into their lifeless yet sparkling eyes. "Breaking into a party, something something cake, something something having fun," they rambled on. "I mean, cool! Sounds like something I would do! But you know, Princess Rulue is real moody. If I told her a lot of commoners attended her party, especially Arle..." Ringo shook her head in disbelief, something that sounded like a "no" being croaked out.
"Well, you know how she gets. She's not one to associate with others that she doesn't see fit for her standards. And if Arle's there, Rulue will make trouble for her in some way, shape, or form," Ecolo replied. "Then the Dark Prince guy will get himself involved for no reason, then whats-his-face the head of the royal guard. Then Raffina who will probably side with Rulue, and then- You see where this is going? Granted, it's not as exaggerated as I make it sound, but it could be. I don't want you getting involved with that kind of trouble, okay?"
"You'll be happier somewhere else... like with me."
Ringo steeled herself amidst the chills running down her body.
"Why?"
"You," they merely responded, before leaning in to hold her face. It was, admittedly, terrifying for this somewhat stranger to get so close to her, but Ringo couldn't move at all.
How strange. Why wouldn't her body move or speak?
"I want to be your friend. That's all."
Not something you should say after breaking into someone's room. Ringo pushed them away, the red ribbon keeping their hair neat letting loose, and she tried her very best not to break into sobs. Who was talking to her—Ecolo, or the black shadow controlling their body?
The servant regained their composure, gripping the ribbon tightly in their left hand, and chuckled quietly. "It's a simple request," they whispered to the dark. "You wouldn't turn me down, would you?" Sharp, piercing laughter echoed through her room.
"You see, I've loved you for some time— I can't recall. It was really surprising to see you at Lemres' cafe, when you shouldn't have known it existed," Ecolo continued on, the madness in their expression finally taking prevalence. "I didn't know why you pretended to be some aristocrat, so I did a bit of digging... It wasn't your idea. Turns out those other girls used you as a part of that plan, and you do have a kind, innocent heart after all. For someone as beautiful as you, in every aspect, I would do anything. Anything for you."
Anything for you.
The redhead sniffled and breathed out a sigh to concentrate, staring dead into their eyes. "Friends, you say?" she whispered out, the blackness at the edges of her sight creeping ever closer. "Will you not be a creep and drop this line of thought?"
Ecolo smiled, this time less menacing and more a warmer smile—a good thing, or not?—and cupped Ringo's cheek in their palm, wiping away the dried tears that lined her face. "Of course, Ringo," they whispered. "I won't do that to you anymore. It's a promise." They moved next to her, lay down, and slept at her side, like it was no big deal to waltz into someone's room and sleep beside them. Not that Ringo could do anything about it. She could barely move.
She herself still had to process the last few minutes. What did she just agree to? This all felt so unreal; it could've been just a dream. When she woke up to the sunlight in the morning, she would have her answer. She slid down into the sheets, instinctively covered Ecolo with them to prevent them from being cold—she really couldn't find the resolve to not do that—and drifted off into a dreamlike, empty world of nothing.
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that the turquoise-haired valet with the drooly smile had vanished without a trace.
Her voice and thoughts came clear and natural… Ah, it was but a nightmare, wasn't it? It felt so real, though... It was just like those dreams with the black shadow. She was talking to the black shadow, it made a lot more sense now. It was just a nightmare.
Just a nightmare.
Making unreasonable demands backed up with a poor, inconsistent and hypothetical argument, there was no way that was real.
That one, Ecolo, surely they weren't like that.
Yes, surely they weren't...