The sun had been setting for a while, turning the sky a mixture of navy blue and soft orange. The walk to the Spirits' Villa wasn't one he had made in a very long time. He felt kind of guilty about it. They weren't exactly connected to him very much, and mostly they only knew who he was because of May. But at the same time, without their help, May wouldn't even be here now. She wouldn't be able to continue living at all.
He fiddled with the large key in his hands, turning it over and over as he walked. When he got to the front stoop, he was surprised at how quiet it was, and still. Nothing was breaking, nothing was exploding. Nobody was being thrown out a window. He took advantage of it, quickly slid the key into all the locks it went to and slipped inside. "Hello..?"
?Get yer ass outta ?ere!? a voice, filled to the brim with far too much frustration to be contained in whatever body that possessed it, shouted out.
?Hey. HEY. Fuck you. Got it?? another fires back, filled with abject hatred. ?I got here first.?
?Ya? always sayin? ya? got ?ere firs?. Dun make me whip yer ass ?gain!? The first voice returned with, altering from frustration to a shell of amusement, ready to burst with laughter.
?Oh? Is that what you think you?ll do? How about I shove my finger down your throat and rip out all that goo inside you that makes you whole, huh??
It was an argument interspersed with the sounds of glass breaking and wood cracking, originating from the living room that was barely six steps into the home and to the right. The massive threshold that was absent of a door did very little to contain the nonstop barrage of bickering, and it didn?t seem either of them paid the latest voice any bit of attention.
"AH GEEZ!!" He darted further inside, the opposite way logic told him to go and leaned back to peer into the living area. All the furniture was neat and clean and in total contrast to all the stuff he saw flying in every direction. He saw Ria's dress and Sophia's hair, as if he needed any visual confirmation. He knew their voices well enough. He winced as another shower of glass exploded against some hard surface. Helen was going to be angry. She'd probably just finished cleaning everything.
He took advantage of their distraction, loping up the stairs three at a time. He wasn't sure he should even still be in here, but he had to try and search the rest of the house first. He knew Emma's room wouldn't get him anything. He tried Tracy's, his knocks sounding like claps of thunder in the hallway. Even with the fight downstairs, it was remarkably quiet up here.
"Crap," he hissed, stepping away from the door. It was a long shot expecting her to be here. He chewed on his mouth, walking down one wall. Sophia was downstairs, so was Ria. He rapped his knuckles against the third door he came to. "Melissa? Are you here?"
The upstairs was a stark contrast to the destruction taking place on the first floor. The lone hall that joined every possible room together, not unlike a prison?s cell area, was just as exciting as a hallway should be. The walls were bereft of color, drearily plain but somehow able to please the eye. The floor was mopped and waxed with several coatings until it all but reflected the interior lighting like the sun bounced off of the ocean?s surface. Most of all, it was quiet, able to silence the screaming and hollering and sporadic bursts of spiritual and magical attacks without so much as a quake in the structure?s foundation.
The rapping of knuckles against the door that seated the Magician of Puppets, Melissa, came with a belated response; prim and proper and much more fitting somebody of a lone royal line of Kings. It was a voice of strength, one that dictated command and allured attention. ?Yes? Come in.?
He jumped when he heard her voice, lost in the half reflection of his own face off the floor that was staring up at him. How did Helen do that..?
He took a calming breath and gripped the door handle, slipping quietly inside. He'd only ever been in each room once or twice when they'd picked the house for everybody. He spent a long moment looking around before he actually tried to find Melissa situated wherever she was. "Hi. ...I know this is kinda weird, we haven't really talked in a while."
The inside of Melissa?s room was no different from what a six year old girl?s room may be like. An endless shelf that painted each wall in a perfectly straight line was decorated with various dolls of various sizes. Some were small, barely a foot in height, while others barely had the ability to remain perched on their proverbial throne, with heads that were forced to go crooked at the joints in their necks to fit. Along the shelf, there was an obvious gap where one doll appeared to be absent. Tensile string, thin like fishing line but with a shimmer that put spider?s silk to shame, caked the floor in endless tangles and knots to the point that it replaced what carpeting could be discerned with the squish of toes or the drag of soles.
Seated with a weary lean on a plain wooden chair that was far too large for her at a desk full of small nicks and notches and was cluttered more so than the floor, Melissa was busy threading new string into a doll that carried an uncanny resemblance to her own mien. Without looking, she greeted her new visitor with a voice thick with distraction, ?Toby. I wasn?t expecting you, of all people, here at this hour.? The doll in her hands popped at the joints as she momentarily lowered it during a turn to gage her presumed assumption?s accuracy. ?I was right. It seems this doll?s still functioning properly, after all.?
"Yeah, I know." Every single one of these dolls had to do something special. Or at least he felt like they did. He ran his fingertips down the edge of the shelf, careful not to touch any of them. With his luck, he'd break one. "I don't come here very much. I don't want Sophia or Ria to miss and hit me with something." He half smiled, picking his way along the thread soaked carpet to put himself near her. He searched for something to sit on that wouldn't collapse under his weight, both colors of his eyes drawn to the doll in Melissa's nimble fingers. "Did something happen to it?"
?Hm,? Melissa, amused with his comment about the two most headstrong spiritual entities, cooed a sound of laughter. It was a far cry from rambunctious as it should?ve been. ?Yes, I understand. Those two have always had it out for one another. As a previous Shrine Maiden, Ria is incredibly powerful. I believe it?s that reason alone that Sophia always pushes her buttons, to help keep herself in tip-top strength. It?s not every day you can battle a still living Shrine Maiden without reprimand.? She turned herself back to her work, picking up a small tool that appeared to enable pinpoint precision for threads barely discerned by the human eye.
?You can sit on the bed, if you prefer. It?s the only place I have at the moment available to you.? He?d find, if he wasn?t careful enough, the arm of a doll since disassembled, crinkled up clothes far too small even for a new born, and what appeared to be a still functional plastic eye that blinked sentience.
?Did something happen to this particular doll?? She repeated his question, brandishing the spiked tool at the doll she was busy with. ?Yes. Several months ago, it was damaged in an attack that caught the Queen and her lady, Martyr, off-guard. It?s designed for convenience and as a mode of communication, not battle. It was soundly crushed by whatever it was that hit it.?
He took up her offer before he answered, yelped when something poked him in the back of the thigh when he sat down. ...A plastic arm? He held it as carefully as he could, searching its surface for any fractures. "What is it with people and fighting each other to better themselves? Maybe I don't get it 'cause I don't like fighting."
He looked up from the arm when she mentioned both May and Martyr, his eyes going wide, eyebrows lost in the ginger fall of his hair. "...Something *attacked* them? Geez.. I didn't know that. I know they spent a lot of time together, I just..didn't think it was dangerous at all. What happened?"
He fiddled with the large key in his hands, turning it over and over as he walked. When he got to the front stoop, he was surprised at how quiet it was, and still. Nothing was breaking, nothing was exploding. Nobody was being thrown out a window. He took advantage of it, quickly slid the key into all the locks it went to and slipped inside. "Hello..?"
?Get yer ass outta ?ere!? a voice, filled to the brim with far too much frustration to be contained in whatever body that possessed it, shouted out.
?Hey. HEY. Fuck you. Got it?? another fires back, filled with abject hatred. ?I got here first.?
?Ya? always sayin? ya? got ?ere firs?. Dun make me whip yer ass ?gain!? The first voice returned with, altering from frustration to a shell of amusement, ready to burst with laughter.
?Oh? Is that what you think you?ll do? How about I shove my finger down your throat and rip out all that goo inside you that makes you whole, huh??
It was an argument interspersed with the sounds of glass breaking and wood cracking, originating from the living room that was barely six steps into the home and to the right. The massive threshold that was absent of a door did very little to contain the nonstop barrage of bickering, and it didn?t seem either of them paid the latest voice any bit of attention.
"AH GEEZ!!" He darted further inside, the opposite way logic told him to go and leaned back to peer into the living area. All the furniture was neat and clean and in total contrast to all the stuff he saw flying in every direction. He saw Ria's dress and Sophia's hair, as if he needed any visual confirmation. He knew their voices well enough. He winced as another shower of glass exploded against some hard surface. Helen was going to be angry. She'd probably just finished cleaning everything.
He took advantage of their distraction, loping up the stairs three at a time. He wasn't sure he should even still be in here, but he had to try and search the rest of the house first. He knew Emma's room wouldn't get him anything. He tried Tracy's, his knocks sounding like claps of thunder in the hallway. Even with the fight downstairs, it was remarkably quiet up here.
"Crap," he hissed, stepping away from the door. It was a long shot expecting her to be here. He chewed on his mouth, walking down one wall. Sophia was downstairs, so was Ria. He rapped his knuckles against the third door he came to. "Melissa? Are you here?"
The upstairs was a stark contrast to the destruction taking place on the first floor. The lone hall that joined every possible room together, not unlike a prison?s cell area, was just as exciting as a hallway should be. The walls were bereft of color, drearily plain but somehow able to please the eye. The floor was mopped and waxed with several coatings until it all but reflected the interior lighting like the sun bounced off of the ocean?s surface. Most of all, it was quiet, able to silence the screaming and hollering and sporadic bursts of spiritual and magical attacks without so much as a quake in the structure?s foundation.
The rapping of knuckles against the door that seated the Magician of Puppets, Melissa, came with a belated response; prim and proper and much more fitting somebody of a lone royal line of Kings. It was a voice of strength, one that dictated command and allured attention. ?Yes? Come in.?
He jumped when he heard her voice, lost in the half reflection of his own face off the floor that was staring up at him. How did Helen do that..?
He took a calming breath and gripped the door handle, slipping quietly inside. He'd only ever been in each room once or twice when they'd picked the house for everybody. He spent a long moment looking around before he actually tried to find Melissa situated wherever she was. "Hi. ...I know this is kinda weird, we haven't really talked in a while."
The inside of Melissa?s room was no different from what a six year old girl?s room may be like. An endless shelf that painted each wall in a perfectly straight line was decorated with various dolls of various sizes. Some were small, barely a foot in height, while others barely had the ability to remain perched on their proverbial throne, with heads that were forced to go crooked at the joints in their necks to fit. Along the shelf, there was an obvious gap where one doll appeared to be absent. Tensile string, thin like fishing line but with a shimmer that put spider?s silk to shame, caked the floor in endless tangles and knots to the point that it replaced what carpeting could be discerned with the squish of toes or the drag of soles.
Seated with a weary lean on a plain wooden chair that was far too large for her at a desk full of small nicks and notches and was cluttered more so than the floor, Melissa was busy threading new string into a doll that carried an uncanny resemblance to her own mien. Without looking, she greeted her new visitor with a voice thick with distraction, ?Toby. I wasn?t expecting you, of all people, here at this hour.? The doll in her hands popped at the joints as she momentarily lowered it during a turn to gage her presumed assumption?s accuracy. ?I was right. It seems this doll?s still functioning properly, after all.?
"Yeah, I know." Every single one of these dolls had to do something special. Or at least he felt like they did. He ran his fingertips down the edge of the shelf, careful not to touch any of them. With his luck, he'd break one. "I don't come here very much. I don't want Sophia or Ria to miss and hit me with something." He half smiled, picking his way along the thread soaked carpet to put himself near her. He searched for something to sit on that wouldn't collapse under his weight, both colors of his eyes drawn to the doll in Melissa's nimble fingers. "Did something happen to it?"
?Hm,? Melissa, amused with his comment about the two most headstrong spiritual entities, cooed a sound of laughter. It was a far cry from rambunctious as it should?ve been. ?Yes, I understand. Those two have always had it out for one another. As a previous Shrine Maiden, Ria is incredibly powerful. I believe it?s that reason alone that Sophia always pushes her buttons, to help keep herself in tip-top strength. It?s not every day you can battle a still living Shrine Maiden without reprimand.? She turned herself back to her work, picking up a small tool that appeared to enable pinpoint precision for threads barely discerned by the human eye.
?You can sit on the bed, if you prefer. It?s the only place I have at the moment available to you.? He?d find, if he wasn?t careful enough, the arm of a doll since disassembled, crinkled up clothes far too small even for a new born, and what appeared to be a still functional plastic eye that blinked sentience.
?Did something happen to this particular doll?? She repeated his question, brandishing the spiked tool at the doll she was busy with. ?Yes. Several months ago, it was damaged in an attack that caught the Queen and her lady, Martyr, off-guard. It?s designed for convenience and as a mode of communication, not battle. It was soundly crushed by whatever it was that hit it.?
He took up her offer before he answered, yelped when something poked him in the back of the thigh when he sat down. ...A plastic arm? He held it as carefully as he could, searching its surface for any fractures. "What is it with people and fighting each other to better themselves? Maybe I don't get it 'cause I don't like fighting."
He looked up from the arm when she mentioned both May and Martyr, his eyes going wide, eyebrows lost in the ginger fall of his hair. "...Something *attacked* them? Geez.. I didn't know that. I know they spent a lot of time together, I just..didn't think it was dangerous at all. What happened?"