The Grand Finale;

@Divetoemergency: Therapy of the Endless Sorcerer

divetoemergency:

“No.” Ange answered flatly, forcibly, and almost immediately. She barely gave a pause after her brother’s question and didn’t mind how dismissive she was. She hoped her attitude would deter future attempts made by Battler to confront her, and didn’t mince words. If he pressed on, she would speak honestly and deliver an even more brisk reply, and if need be, Ange was not above lying in order to avoid conversation. Battler was the only one who made an effort to speak with her, so Ange hadn’t exhausted her excuses.

The girl was lying flat on her belly in bed, reading a magazine. She flipped through the pages at a slow pace, bored because she finished this one months ago and the subject– music– didn’t interest her very much. She was never into popular bands or trends, but the colorful pictures were a break from the novels she stacked the room with. It was a good thing her grandfather was so well read. Otherwise, she may have gone mad.

“Can’t be bothered right now. I’m sick.”

“Cough. Cough.”

“Well, you being sick is all the more reason for letting Onii-chan enter. I’ve gotten blankets, soup, cough medicine and other stuff here, all for a complete care package that only costs 10 minutes of your precious time!”

This is not the first time that Ange has rejected his attempts at communicating, and most times he simply leaves her be after 2 or 3 tries. This time, however, he’s insistent on getting her to open this door and actually have a talk with her. He’s not leaving until that!

“We can also watch some movies on TV. I’ve heard there’s a Blighi marathon going on a channel!”

#oniichan02 #long post #im on mobile sob sob

“No thanks,” she called. Her eyebrows knitted together as she glared at Battler from behind the door. He was beginning to grow persistent, and it bothered her. If the man would only leave her alone, she could pretend he wasn't there. The thought hurt her heart, but she tried to remain resolute. Goddammit, hadn't she wanted him back so desperately? Now that Battler was here, she couldn't bear to see him. She was really so pathetic…

Pretending to be sick was only a temporary solution. Battler wasn't dense enough to believe she was still bedridden after all these months, and although she reversed her sleep schedule to become nocturnal, he must have caught her sneaking around at night. She didn't look terribly ill-- just haggard. Exhausted. Even though she slept most of the day, she was neglecting her health.

Yeah, living like this was awful.

“The door’s unlocked. You can let yourself in.”

@Divetoemergency: Therapy of the Endless Sorcerer

@divetoemergency

He’s postponed this conversation for too long. If possible, he wished that they could keep this going on, betting on a unreasonable miracle that Ange would figure out by herself the problems with her behavior and have a change of heart.

But he knows that this is not how this sort of thing happens. He knows that, if he turns his own face and others’ away from the truth, they’ll just keep repeating this play of minor explosions until the whole house collapses.

In a certain sense, he’s kinda glad he doesn’t have access to the power of Game Master in Hive City. At the very least, that forces him not to fall into the temptation of gaslighting her again. He can’t provide her with a happy fantasy that would give her an understanding of the family’s more positive side.

However, there’s one thing that Hive City can provide and the Witches’ World can’t: help. The professional kind. <RED>Ange needs professional help</RED>. That’s undeniable truth. But she won’t seek it on her own. That’s where he enters.

The door to her bedroom terrifies him. There’s nothing in it that’d justify such a thing. Yet, going on through the possible scenarios this conversation might end at again and again makes Battler feel like throwing up. After what he feels like centuries… he takes a breath…… and knocks the door.

“…Ange? It’s me, Battler. Can… Can I enter?”

The girl was lying flat on her belly in bed, reading a magazine. She flipped through the pages at a slow pace, bored because she finished this one months ago and the subject-- music-- didn’t interest her very much. She was never into popular bands or trends, but the colorful pictures were a break from the novels she stacked the room with. It was a good thing her grandfather was so well read. Otherwise, she may have gone mad.

“Can’t be bothered right now. I’m sick.”

“Cough. Cough.”

#oniichan02

@Divetoemergency: Twilight of the Endless Sorcerer

ingoldentent:

Ah… So that was it? She’s crying of joy? Battler can’t avoid but chuckle a bit. Really, it’s a relief to hear that. It’s not like Ange isn’t in pain or miserable right now, but… If he can give her just one small moment of happiness right now, he’d already be glad.

He smiles kindly as his hands move to play with her hair accessories. Still the same pink balls he has gotten so used to see on her hair. “…I’m glad you’re here too, Ange.” He mutters. “Are you done with your dish yet? If you are, we can go home.”

Wait. He should better be more specific with that, otherwise Ange might think the ‘home’ he just mentioned refers to their house back when she were a kid. “I mean, the mansion. The scientists have been kind enough to grant us a replica of the mansion in Rokkenjima, rose garden and all. Ain’t that cool?”

“Mmmmm...” was all her reply.

In truth, she didn’t want to go back to that creepy mansion and couldn’t bear even the sight of it. Her last memories of the building were from when she was six years old, and even then, it spooked her. Knowing that the island was her family’s final resting place almost made the situation unfathomably cruel. It was haunted. Ange didn’t believe in ghosts, but the mansion surely was cursed.

She hoped desperately that they could return to her childhood home... but considering the unfamiliar surroundings, Ange knew that was impossibly. Having her brother was good enough, for now.

#oniichan01

goldenless:

Though Beatrice had come to see Ange in order to talk to her, even she didn’t see this situation coming. Sure, it was quite the ordinary sight for any teenager, and yet, this… It almost seemed like she had wondered into a different house altogether. What a drastic change of mood…!

Soon, though, do the witch’s lips curve into a familiar mocking grin. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad situation, after all… “Hehehehehe… Did you truly think the golden witch would respect personal spaaace~? Shouldn’t you know by now that I appear when it’s the least favorable time, just to see that foolish look on your faaaaace~?“ she chuckled, clearly amused. Such a deliciously violated, embarrassed expression…! It almost didn’t matter that this person was Battler’s beloved sister, how could you not be delighted by this? And Lucifer… Her dear, sweet Lucifer of Pride… Ah, what a shame it was to have her very core trampled….!

This was too perfect. Indeed, perhaps this was the best moment to appear! If only she could frame this up to a wall and be a bit more entertained for many years to come.

“Hmhmhm… I will accept your request, Lucifer, as a gift for such an entertaining show… Aren’t I generous today~?” she continued, still giggling.

Beatrice’s wicked smile fried her nerves, and Ange found herself shuddering at the prospects of another unannounced visit from the witch. What a disgusting, obnoxious, perverted woman. On the toilet, in the shower, or… worse. Ange’s imagination was working overtime coming up with possible scenarios of intrusion which grew progressively worse until she batted her head with her hands, trying to chase out unwanted thoughts. Impossible! How was she supposed to keep her dignity in this goddamn house!? Ange thought about asking Battler to control his hellacious wife, but her brother was so useless these days. She didn’t want to waste breath telling him to control someone who was utterly uncontrollable.

“Damn hag, are you asking for trouble? You better have a good reason for this. My door is locked, and given your track record, I’m expecting either one of us to wind up dead.”

A spiteful voice inside her head urged Ange to make a show of force, but she refrained. She almost vocalized a threat, but if Beatrice challenged her, she would have to oblige. Even though her victory was assured, Ange didn’t want to expend the necessary energy to stake this raucous bitch into the ground.

When she made her resolution not to harm the witch, her furniture decided to add insult to injury. Ange stared at Lucifer, disgraced that her stake would take orders from someone who was so clearly an enemy.

(Technically, she and Beatrice were allies-- but only circumstantially!)

“Lucifer, why are you asking her for permission!? You shouldn’t need to be reminded of who you serve. I’m your master now, and in case you’ve forgotten, she’s super dead.”

“Forget what she said, you’re dismissed. Invitation revoked.”

Lucifer, who had been disappointed by Beatrice’s invitation, now appeared to be relieved. She wanted to be dismissed since the first butterfly materialized and only spoke out because it was the proper thing to do. She thought her former master hear her silent cry for help, but even Beatrice-sama didn’t understand the depths of her humiliation!

Lucifer bowed her head in submission.

“Thank you, Ange-sama. Have a nice day. I’ll see you again.”

Ange didn’t notice the acrid, mocking tone in Lucifer’s voice as the stake made her departure.

#beatrice01

@Divetoemergency: Twilight of the Endless Sorcerer

ingoldentent:

No response. Just the arrival of food to interrupt the conversation. Perhaps Ange needs some time to collect her thoughts, is what Battler concludes, so he moves to eat his own dish too.

As he’s finishing to munch this piece of bacon, however… He notices the wetness forming under Ange’s head. He grimaces, upset over how distressed his sister is. She must be in so much pain, a pain that she can’t even express in words. It’s heartbreaking to see her like this, so broken and miserable.

Battler finishes his dish, stands up, moves to Ange’s side and… hugs her. All while moving a hand of his to caress her hair. If she chooses to reject his affection, so be it, but it’s clear that what she needs right now aren’t words. And without words, there aren’t many methods left that Battler knows of to comfort people.

Ange’s body shakes with a sob wrenched from the depths of her body, gasping in her brother’s arms. She tries desperately not to cry-- a girl her age, making a mess of herself in her brother’s arms...? How pathetic is that!!! But, trying to suppress her sadness only causes her to become more hysterical. Her brother’s embrace is warm, and she starts to melt. large tears dribble down her face into her food, but she pays no mind.

She inhales sharply, trying to maintain her composure, and chokes out a few strangled words.

“I’m...” She bites her lip. “I’m so glad to be here with you, Oniichan!”

#oniichan01

@Divetoemergency: Twilight of the Endless Sorcerer

#oniichan01 #the gang goes to denny's

ingoldentent:

“…Ange.” Battler finally says, after a couple minutes of silence. The sound of rain can still be heard from outside. “Look, I-I know that you must be very confused right now, wondering what happened and why you’re here and all of those things.” Not to count questions related to the point in time she was taken from, but Battler chose to avoid mentioning that, considering her refusal from earlier.

“But- see, I can’t help you if… you don’t open up to me. Nobody can. Please, at least… tell me what’s in your head right now. I won’t be overwhelmed or displeased by it, even if you think so.”

Ange tries carrying a frank persona, as if she were someone not afraid to hide anything she thinks, no matter how harmful. But Battler knows better. The thoughts that hurt her the most… Ange keeps them all inside her. And so they grow and pierce her, like wedges entering deep into her skin and beyond.

While Battler is speaking, the waitress reappears to serve Ange and her brother food. When the plate of pancakes is passed in front of her, Ange’s appetite changes, and she realizes how hungry she is. With an unsteady hand, she smooths the pancakes over with butter and adds a generous dollop of maple syrup. Although she listens to Battler, she doesn’t speak. Her mouth only opens to let in a piece of food.

The pancake is sweet on her tongue. Really sweet. Warm too. Ange bows her head as she chews, and she tastes the syrup and the chocolate and how warm she feels. She sniffles. A tear dribbles down her cheek, and she can’t help herself but cry.

desiderious:

The vibrant ringing that came from the timer had interrupted the two’s happy thoughts, and as soon as she turned it off she felt her head cloud with unnecessary thoughts once more. The mind can only relieve pain for so long, and she knew she couldn’t run away from it.

With oven mittens, she took out the batch and set it above surface. The scent of rich chocolate perfumed the kitchen, and by the looks of it the texture had enough crisp to it. She would have considered this a lucky shot, considering she rarely baked.

Bitterness coated the girl’s tongue as she asked impatiently how long she was going stay around. It was funny, considering she could have left first with her cereal. The woman digressed, however, and taking off the mittens she promptly headed to the exit.

“Right now. Knowing how unpleasant my company is, I won’t bother you anymore of it today.”

Silent and sullen, Ange watched her aunt leave. The way she looked at Eva, it was as if she were trying to drive the woman out with her eyes. Her glare burned with bitter hatred left simmering for twelve long years, hatred which could not be soothed by two months spent living with her aunt. Seeing her tore open old wounds she had hoped calloused over, and Ange was reminded of how wounded she was. Living with Obasan was hell. Living without Obasan, in St.Lucia, was hell. Living… was hell. When she died, her aunt beat her to the finish line. She was a ghost, dead and gone, and now she was haunting this house, apparently. What a stroke of fucking luck!!! Ange wanted to scream.

The girl slipped out of her seat. She took her empty bowl and spoon in hand and placed both in the sink, pausing briefly before she decided to leave them alone. Whoever came to clean the kitchen might as well wash her dishes while they were at it. Ange was… tired. Yeah, she was exhausted-- too exhausted to deal with her mess of a life, let alone deal with menial chores.

On her walk to the door, Ange spied the cookies her aunt left out. She didn’t remember if Eva baked, but she guessed the woman may have before the massacre, when she was some sort of homemaker. That must be why they looked so good. Eva had practice.

That was what Ange told herself, so she wouldn’t feel like a massive moron for her culinary failings.

For a moment, she paused and looked at them, really looked at them. The batch was well cooked, and she could smell them from where she stood, several feet away. It hadn’t been five minutes since Eva left, which meant they still may be warm, or at the very least, the chocolate would be melted. Ange hesitated. She took a step toward them-- and stopped.

With a fleeting glance, Ange left the batch behind. Her aunt was likely to come back soon, and Ange didn’t want to be the target of her wrath when she found out her niece ate what she had baked. Idiot. Idiot. She didn’t have the stomach to take one. The conflict it would cause was unnecessary, and… she was tired.

desiderious:

That was all she needed to know, thankfully. Now where did Battler put the chocolate away…

She headed to where the fridge was, opening it to see some unopened chocolate bars. Although she had told him several times not to buy too many sweets, it was expected of him to soften her instructions a bit for his own convenience. Well, she could have a saying about that later. As she pulled out one whole bar, she unwrapped it before throwing it in a separate bowl. She transferred it to the microwave, carefully setting it in before closing and setting a timer on it.

Now that was done, she waited. Oddly enough, baking was calming her nerves. At some point in her life, she knew she had to find a way to cope with her emotions other than through martial arts, and the kitchen was the solution it. It was easy for her to let her mind sink into whatever it was that she was making, and the results were usually satisfying too.

While she was conscious of Ange’s presence, it wasn’t as strong as before to become a bothersome. Using the time to shut her eyes a bit, she let fragrance of chocolate soothe her. Truly, what a typical holiday scent it was to have around in a house. Come to think of…Christmas was just around the corner, wasn’t it? She needed to finish that Christmas shopping that she pushed off for a while now…

BRING!

Abruptly opening her eyes to be thrown back into reality, she opened the microwave to take the melted chocolate out, using it to fuse it in with the rest of the ingredients. She continued on with the rest of the steps until she reached the point where it all became dough.

Taking the pan out again, she placed a parchment sheet over it before establishing tiny balls of dough out of the bowl. As Ange had done before, she cleaned out the oven once more before placing the pan in it. Shutting it tight, she set the timer again and leaned against the kitchen table.

Taking a quite glance at the girl (whom she nearly forgot was there), she shifted her gaze elsewhere before she was caught by her. It had been so long since they were able to be in a room together without screaming at one another for pointless things. The woman wasn’t dumb to think everything was fine as it was; the girl must have been doing her best to ignore her. She couldn’t help but imagine how weirdly satisfying this all was to her though…

Despite still being seen as a wretch in her eyes…she wanted to take advantage of this moment. This was as close as they might ever get, and…that was fine.

The atmosphere of the kitchen changed drastically as Ange slipped into a pleasant day dream. Although she didn’t have the skill or attention to materialize her friends in the physical sense, Ange was able to project her thoughts into the negative space between reality and what she wished was reality. From what she had seen, Ronove was a devilish man but an exemplary butler. Ange had been surrounded by servants for most of her life, but no matter how dutiful the furniture, none could compare to Ronove, who she found charming. He was impish and sassy and often ignored the gulf between master and servant. Although he was hired help, it almost felt as if they were equals, almost as if he could be a friend.

Around a sweet spoonful of cereal, Ange smiled to herself.

Bring!

The ugly sound of the microwave splintered Ronove’s body as if he were struck by a sledgehammer.

Ange let out a groan of frustration. Being a witch was difficult. Even though she inherited the abilities of Beatrice, she hadn’t unlocked the true potential of Endless Magic. She was barely a novice. Eva’s presence further inhibited the flow of magic, and Ange’s toxin of disbelief rose like bile in her throat when she heard the woman’s light footfalls on the kitchen floor. She was finishing her bowl of cereal, and thought she would be best off returning to her room, to the comfort of isolation. In the dark, it was easy to pretend she was anywhere, with anyone. She couldn’t face the reality of the kitchen, so she chose instead to escape.

“Obasan, how long do you think you’ll be here?”

desiderious:

From the corners of her eyes, she watched as she took a box out before settling back to prepare her supposed brunch. She could almost relate to a rat trying to scavenge for food, and the sight of it didn’t make her relieved at all. It was strange; there were enough resources around here to take better care of herself, and yet…she was more than content in taking remainders of cereal bits and chocolate milk.

Was she actually that content with putting all that junk in her body though?

The discomfort might have come from the fact that she was comparing her to how she treated George when they lived together. With the amount of control she had over him, she was able to monitor what he consumed most of the time. She tried this method with Ange before, but obviously it took a wrong turn. That, and also she was a health freak overall.

As she moved onto the next procedure to complete her creation, she broke the silence with a single word.

“Chocolate.” Her back still facing the girl, she continued.

“You like chocolate, don’t you?” It wasn’t her forte to let a child be indulged by this many sweets, but…she wasn’t looking to argue anymore, so she resisted the temptation to say anything about it (for now).

“I guess,” she said, hotly.

The sound of her aunt’s voice filled her with bitterness. Ange was content to eat in silence, but the old hag had other ideas.

She had no idea why Eva was so interested in her tastes. It was obvious Ange liked chocolate-- didn’t everyone…? Eva was asking questions she already knew the answers to, so that she could validate her worth as a parent when Ange responded accordingly. It was pathetic. It made her teeth grind.

If only she would quit her probing, Ange could pretend the woman wasn’t there. The sound of Eva cooking could be heard behind her, but Ange could easily imagine she was Ghoda or perhaps-- even Ronove. Yeah, if she just shut up, Ange could close her eyes and be served cake baked by a demon butler. Ronove wasn’t furniture she had ever tried to summon, but since she was Beatrice, his new master, she supposed she could try… Ange tried to lose herself in a pleasant day dream.

desiderious:

There it was– the proof that she hadn’t eaten anything yet. It wasn’t a surprise, considering the girl had such an off schedule compared to everyone else. With a single glance at her, she rolled up her sleeves and pulled a bowl close to her. From there on, she took measuring cups to fill them up with flour and sugar before throwing it all into the bowl. Next, she grabbed two eggs and cracked them open to pour its inner contents along with the rest. With a whisk, she began beating it all together.

All throughout this process, not once did she look at the girl that must have been humiliated at herself. She didn’t even know whether or not she would eat anything that she made, but frankly she couldn’t care at that point. There were other people that lived in the mansion, they could have it for all she cared.

She didn’t have an apron to protect her clothes from, so specks of white powder were left all around. It was going to be troubling to wash it off later, but that was something to think about later.

Another sigh came from her, but this time softer so that only she was able to hear it. No matter how much she hated her…she just couldn’t stop not caring about her. Maybe it was her that was the weird one- no, she was strange to support a child like this one.

Just what was she going to do with herself?

If Eva noticed the rude sounds of Ange’s stomach, she didn’t react, and Ange breathed a sigh of relief. She had spent the past few months mourning her pride. She couldn’t handle being embarrassed again, not even by the slightest attacks at her dignity. Her stomach churned, and Ange realized she was hungrier than she thought. So, as not to give her guts time to groan, she went quickly to the cabinets, throwing them open until she could find something to eat. She was hunting for cereal, and found a few boxes.

Ange had a sweet tooth she wasn’t proud to admit. Eva Obasan probably knew; Ange had been to the dentist more times than she could count on her fingers and toes. (Ugh-- just thinking about teeth made her remember the braces.) If she had any hope for her future prospects, Ange may have avoided unneeded sugar, but she wished she was dead practically every day. Lucky Charms wouldn’t hurt her.

She doused her bowl of cereal with chocolate milk. It was… truly a perfect concoction.

goldenless

@divetoemergency

She had heard the rumors… and she had heard the commotion. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more apparent it became that this Ange was not the one she remembered seeing last. This Ange was truly a pitiable being to behold, the one who was still in the clutches of her own bitterness and hate. Perhaps because she could somewhat relate, perhaps for her husband, she let her eyes close for a brief moment.

And, as if by some sick twist of fate, as Beatrice opened her eyes again…

She was suddenly there, right in front of her eyes.

Yes, she did hold a very brief look of surprise but it soon changed back to normal.

“… Hoh… If it isn’t Ange. I see the rumors were true…“

Ange stared at Beatrice and almost choked on a cheese doodle when the witch materialized at the foot of her bed. She made a pained expression, and swallowed what was in her mouth before letting out a roar. “Wh-what the hell!? In your thousand years of life, did anyone ever teach you manners…? You can’t barge into a young woman’s room without asking first, creep!”

The girl was sitting cross legged on her white duvet, an unfortunate choice for she was digging through a bag of cheese snacks while playing a board game. Lucifer lay across from her with her head resting on her folded arms. Seeing as they were playing monopoly, neither girl was having much fun. Having to speak to Beatrice like this was already embarrassing, but if she had been in a more indecent situation, things would have gotten ugly…

“Ohhh, Beatrice-sama.” Lucifer was suddenly attentive. At the sight of her old master, her spirit was rekindled and she became lively. The stake shifted into a sitting position. “A meeting between members of Mariage Sorcière, I see. C-can I request to be audience?” Lucifer tried to act formal, but her face, covered in a light dusting of orange cheese, was… humiliating. She wanted to die on the spot.

#beatrice01

desiderious:

It wasn’t like she expected her to know anything about her, and she stood correct with that. She simply saw her as a woman that didn’t have a heart, someone that just deserved the worst out of everything. Within those years of being forced to spend time with her, she could only recall the pain that came out of it as well. Countless days of raising her voice at her over something that could have been rephrased into kinder words endlessly repeated in her head, and the amount of neglect that the two had for each other was endless.

If only things were different.

“I know.” Her voice was soft and remorseful, not a hint of bitterness heard. It would take her quite a while before she would rest and become someone entirely different.

Not knowing what else to say without most likely being mocked by it, she finished up cleaning the rest of the mess before she took a look at what Ange did. Her frown grew a bit deeper, seeing how she had easily given up on something so simple.

“Just let it dry off.” Even she was too tired to deal with it right now. She could properly clean it off later, but as of now she gave her one more glance before doing the unthinkable.

Taking the pan out of the drying rack, she placed it on the table along with some ingredients and other kitchen utensils.

“You were going to make something, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

What the hell else would she be trying to do!? Ange bit her lip and puffed hot air out of her nostrils, refusing to lose her temper. She straightened and walked to the kitchen sink to wash off her hands. There were no dishtowels within arm’s reach, so Ange wiped the water off her palms with her sweat pants. She watched Eva pull cooking items out from the cabinets, and wondered why she must be doing so. The room still stank of smoke, so Ange stepped on a stool to open one of the room’s window. She planned to do the same to the back door when she made her exit.

Ange came to the conclusion that her aunt must have come to the kitchen to prepare a meal, whether it was lunch or diner, Ange couldn’t tell. She squinted at the clock and was surprised to see that it was one o’clock in the afternoon; Ange had only woken up an hour ago. She had napped the whole morning and finally decided to made herself breakfast, a sheet of pillsbury dough cookies… and chocolate milk. Ange took the chocolate milk with her as she walked to the door. She took the whole carton, why the fuck not. It wasn’t as if she’d be returning. Let Obasan clean up the mess. After all, she did offer, and it was about time she paid Ange back.

Gurgle. Ange’s face flushed bright crimson at the sound of her stomach groaning. She slid an arm, protectively, over her belly and glanced over her shoulder at Eva, praying she hadn’t noticed.

desiderious:

Was her goal to prove her that she wasn’t a hallucination made by her brother? No, she had given up at this point. It was like talking to a broken record; no matter what she said, it wouldn’t go through her stubborn mind. She was so convinced to the point where she wasn’t going to accept any other logic out there, and no matter how much proof there was– what was the point of it all when she wasn’t going to open her eyes to it?

She jolted a bit when she heard the loud bang afterwards, looking down at the girl that seemed to have sunken deeper into the oven. See? She wasn’t going to accept that she was the same person from 1998, the witch that kept cursing her for her misfortune. Damn her for succumbing to such a state! All those years of building herself up to be a confident woman had crumbled down instantly after the massacre, and she had no one but herself to blame for it.

Instead of repeating similar reactions and falling down to her knees with tears in her eyes, she simply stood there as if unfazed. Of course, it hurt to see her like this…but in the end, she had to accept that there was nothing else she could do for her. They were in a city where death was nonexistent, a living purgatory for the two of them.

The woman took her time to respond, taking in deep breaths before calmly responding to her outrage.

“I don’t.” Pause. “I don’t know much about you, unfortunately. All those years of having to live together…those were tormenting days for the both of us. We’ve both lost what could never be brought back….and we never learned to move on. And because of how blind I was to my own loss, I didn’t realize I was also losing something else.

The time to understand you.”

There was an incoming migraine coming, but she did her best to push it back. She couldn’t afford losing this opportunity to talk to her like this, she just couldn’t.

“June 17th.” Her gaze shifted elsewhere, now taking the wet towel that was left on the table to wash it in the sink.

“Before our long-term dispute began, I tried to plan something special for you on your birthday. I had hoped that through it, we could slowly forgive each other and start anew…but that never happened. Each year proved to be more difficult in getting to you though, and so…I eventually stopped trying.”

A tug on her heartstring was felt, and she had to clutch her own chest to ease the pain.

“You keep saying how the Obasan you know wouldn’t be like this, and that I don’t have a single clue as to who you are…but it could also be said the same to you. Right? What…do you know about me other than the me from 1986 to 1998? All that you know about me was a me spiraling down to nothing more but a pathetically pitiful person lying on her deathbed.

A me that tormented you all those years of being stuck together…

Other than that…you barely know anything about me too.” She exhaled, feeling her chest tighten up.

“Whatever I say won’t reach you though, and I know very well this will be a pointless thing for me to say…but Ange, I’ve never once wanted to think of you as a burden. After my death, I had hoped that you would’ve find peace for yourself…but that wasn’t what happened, wasn’t it?”

“I have said this before- I won’t force anything on you. You’re all grown now, so you should be able to decide on what you want to believe in.”

When was Obasan’s birthday again…?

A gaping wound in her heart erupted at the mention of her birthday. In the rosey years of her childhood, it was her favorite day of the year. Although they began to blur and fade into one another the farther back she tried to reach, Ange could recall her fifth and sixth birthdays with clarity because she clung to them so fiercely. After the massacre, there was no reason to await the day. Obasan bought her elaborate gifts and tickets to amusement parks, all sorts of things Ange supposed would make other kids smile, but she never really seemed to understand Ange’s pain.

The only present she wanted was a person, and he was dead and gone.

Her eyes stung. She refused to think about birthdays any longer… It was too painful. She agonized over holes in her recollections and despaired because she couldn’t remember the taste of her mother’s cooking. It was difficult to remember those happy years but so easy to remember the twelve, painful years which followed. She was so lonely. Anyone’s company and cooking would be preferable to the St.Lucia’s cafeteria lady and her cafeteria cake. Well, maybe not Eva’s company-- Ange remembered some of the vicious insults the woman had thrown at her-- but someone’s company would have been nice. She never asked for it, she didn’t have to. She already knew all future birthdays would be spent in similar isolation until her fragile resolve crumbled and she decided to end it.

Going to see Oniichan on her own birthday. What a morbidly attractive thought.

“Your death didn’t bring me peace. After you died, I fell to another level of hell.” Ange pulled herself up by a countertop and rose to stand. She was miserable at cleaning and the surrounding area could not be described as orderly by any stretch of the imagination. What to do with the foam… she had no idea. Ange’s first thought was to call a maid, but she guessed they didn’t have maids anymore.

desiderious:

Was… that what she thought she was? Nothing more but a made up piece made by her own brother to torment her? The hand that held the sponge slowly slid off of the metallic surface, now staring at her with a remorseful look. This was worse than she thought, she didn’t consider her as an actual being… In her eyes, she was nothing more but fantasy.

The way she must have concluded it must have been out of denial…denial of her trying to reconcile with her. All because she only knew her as the Black Witch that came to ruin her life until her very death, to mock and torment every aspect of her living soul. Ah, this was all useless…why did she think she would ever have the chance to restitch what was already torn into bits and pieces? If this child was forever going to live under this sort of mentality…then she may as well follow along with it without saying a word.

So far she had been doing a good job on that, so why stop there? She could go on and on with it for the sake of her, because she was Ange. She would do anything for her, she was her ally after all.

The calm atmosphere that came afterwards felt like a storm that had passed by. It was an improvement compared to their first interaction, but it still didn’t resolve anything.

As she finally placed the wet pan on the drying rack, she busied herself next by taking a wet towel to clean the surface of the table. It was amazing on how much of a mess she left from making whatever pastries she was attempting to bake. Was she in a rush to bake them? Perhaps, but now wasn’t the moment to ponder over trivial matters.

“If you think I’m an Piece made by Battler…then why don’t you just forget about me already? Forget about me so that you won’t have to be tired anymore. Because in your eyes, I’m not the real Eva…so why bother hating something that’s made up?

Why live in pain…when you have the option to not.”

A pause.

“Would your brother ever be so evil as to just make me up in order to relive your nightmares though? Even if you have none for me, at least have some faith in him. You’re his one and only little sister, after all, and you know him best out of everyone… don’t you.”

After finishing that sentence, she had realized how long Ange had been in the same position for the entire time they were talking to each other. At that rate, she wasn’t going to finish anything. Placing the towel aside, she went over to take over the remainders of the last batch.

“I’ll take care of cleaning the rest. You should go and rest for the day.”

Eva’s voice was recognizable, but what she said was unfamiliar. Like Rosa Obasan, the Eva on this game board was uncharacteristically pensive. Her attitude was a far cry from their last interaction in Eva’s room. Farther still was their final farewell in 1998. The Eva Obasan who croaked on Bernkastel’s game board was hardly lucid, and the ravings of a madwoman were easier to bear than the infamous tongue lashings Eva had given Ange in her youth. Hearing her voice once inspired a sense of dread, but at the end of the life, it stirred a sense of pity. Eva was a strong woman reduced to a sorry state.

Ange wouldn’t sympathize with Eva, and she didn’t then, when her aunt lay dying on a hospital bed, surrounded neither by family nor friend. Sick old people played with the heartstrings, and Ange was only human. It didn’t soothe the pain, but it made her bitter instead of rageful.

Hearing Eva’s voice again was moving, but the emotions stirred inside Ange were strange, confused.What she said wasn’t needlessly cruel, abusive, or batshit, and that made it worse!

“Goddammit!”

A small clang could be heard. Ange hit the oven with her fist, puffing air out her nose in frustration. A final tear slipped past her cheek, but she strengthened her resolve not to make a fool out of herself. Her, writhing on the floor and crying, would only satisfy the Obasan who died in 1998. What this Obasan wanted… She couldn’t figure out at all!!!

“How could I accept this!? Even though you have the same voice, you and Obasan are practically different people! This is more than we’ve spoken in years, but you’re talking as if you understand me. Do you even know me!?”

She was on her hands and knees, glowering at Eva over her shoulder. She looked silly. Her face was still red and flecked with white foam, but what she said was scincered.

“What’s my birthday!? Huh? I never got a card much less a phone call at St. Lucia. Unless the mailman is fucking me over, you didn’t care, did you!?”

“Don’t bother yourself, it’s useless. You have to be a piece. It’s just like Oniichan to be so sentimental. The Obasan I knew would never--”

She bit her lip and cut herself off. While she was speaking, Ange was furiously cleaning the oven. She was so worked up, she was stripping years of grime off the appliance with her sponge.

desiderious:

She… She wasn’t raising her voice at her. Not as furious as she thought it to be, at least. Now that was more than something to be shocked about. As much as the temptation was strong to look at her, she kept her eyes on the pan, continuing to scrub away bits and pieces of burnt scraps. She didn’t want to test her luck out, and the boundary between them was still as strong as ever.

A question then popped in her head, and she began to wonder why Ange had been baking. Of course, anyone in the mansion had the freedom of what they wanted to do (so long as it didn’t cause havoc), and she wasn’t going to question it out loudly to her knowing she was going to lash at her for her curiosity. Could it be that she had always been interested in cooking? She wouldn’t have known. All the years she had spent with her could have been counted for as isolation instead of bonding, and there was so much that she didn’t know about her. It was so shameful, honestly, and she wasn’t proud of it one bit.

Having expected to clean the kitchen herself for the entire afternoon, her heart nearly skipped a beat when she felt the girl’s presence approach beside her. What…what was she doing?

Stopping what she was doing, she looked at her from the corner of her eyes, and to her disbelief she was… helping. Not causing more of a mess for her to make her suffer more, but actually taking responsibility of her own creation.

Again, she didn’t say anything and eventually went back to looking at the metallic pan, but this time she scrubbed slower. What was she planning this time? There was so much suspense coming from this simple act, and it made it harder not to ask about it. Did Battler talk to her at some point? Or did she come to her senses all by herself?

With these thoughts filling her head, she almost missed the question that was directed at her this time. She completely stopped now, and with courage she turned her head at her.

“What… I am?”

What could she be possibly talking about? Unless…no. No, she was going to let her finish that sentence.

“You're a piece.” Although she spoke with her head half inside the oven, her words were clear. She had come to her own conclusion about Eva and was able to state it with conviction. Ange refused to consider other theories, impossible theories. She settled on the answer which hurt the least because she was too tired. Yes, that’s what she told herself: I’m too tired. It’s why she struggled to get out of bed and didn’t leave the house. She was even too tired, it seemed, to bother trying to summon stakes other than Lucifer, and she didn’t particularly like Lucifer’s company.

Yeah, it was much better being alone. These days, she couldn’t tolerate others-- especially not her brother and cousin, who pushed her to confront all of the thoughts and feelings and relatives she hated. Ange hated Eva Obasan. She was content avoiding her and avoiding the others. She hated Rosa Obasan. And she hated the witch… She didn’t have much of an opinion of Natsuhi Obasan, but from what Ange had seen of her, there were behaviors she could try to hate. So she hated, and didn’t really try to stop hating because she hated even the idea of stopping.

“My brother placed you here, on the gameboard, to torture me into submission,” she spat her words into the oven, becoming angry once more at the thought of liking Eva. “Eva Obasan… would never do something like this. That’s how I know you’re a piece.”

She was beginning to overwhelm herself because of the tight space of the oven, because she had burnt the fucking cookies and was placed in this unthinkable situation, and, most of all, she was overwhelmed by how much she hated Eva, which she did with all of her strength until she was red in the face. I hate you so much.

“I don’t hate you, Obasan,” Ange said, calmly. Her voice was softer than usual and her apathy eerie, but to Eva, who hardly spent time with her, it may not have been as alarming as it should have. Even so, the atmosphere shifted around them.

“You’re a piece… and you can’t disobey… Hating you would be a waste of time, and--” She inhaled sharply. “--I’m really tired, Obasan.”

She couldn’t stop tears from rolling down her cheeks.