[Diary Entry: Black Raisin - CW: Mourning, Implied Death(?)]
I miss Healer Cookie. I miss the Cookie that wanted to help others wholeheartedly despite his lack of sight and resources. Whose trust was considered almost ignorant in the face of potential friends- or potential threats.
I miss Healer Cookie, who tagged along on an adventure that of which was led by a light that would rid him of his own existence. Who would lose more than a dear friend like the one who would replace him once did. Losing himself more than anything else...
I miss Healer Cookie, who was plagued by memories of a Truth that didn't belong to him. Who had become what the Light seeked him to become, despite it overwriting his own existence.
I miss the Cookie who gave up his entire being to transform into something that fate dragged him into becoming. Selfless as always, to such an extent that his mind was replaced with the Ancient whose mistakes were forced upon a soul who had nothing to do with them.
I miss the Cookie who stayed with the raisins and treated them with a smile. Now, that Cookie is nowhere to be found. Proclaim that the ancient healer has returned, and yet it shadows the loss of someone far more precious.
A figurehead, a powerful being, always busy and caught up with important duties...Meetings, discussion, relations, what have you. That Cookie would never have been strung into these events. Where is he now? Erased? Suppressed? Simply, utterly gone? He proclaims he is Pure Vanilla Cookie now, yet it doesn't sit right.
Healer Cookie. I miss him. If it were not for what fate had in store, I am certain he would smile at where his friends are now. Ridiculous, it is, to mourn someone who is not even dead. Though, considering the circumstances... Ah, nevermind.
"Trick-or-treat!" Rang the excited crowd outside of the prosecutor's door.
The sound of cheerful kids and adults out and about nearly made Cappuccino slam his head into the wall next to him. This was one of his only vacation days, yet he was spending it handing out cheap candy to people in shoddy costumes bought at the last minute. Heading to the door of his rental home, he'd grab the bowl he left on a small stand- accidentally knocking over a couple of empty cappuccino cups- and open the door.
Immediately, he was met with shrill cheers from a crowd of kids that made his head hurt worse than staying up this late already did. "Yea, yea- take your candy guys!" Though bitter, he'd still try to at least force a playful form of disdain, even if it was laced with too much of the real thing. "Happy Halloween, guys! Stay out of trouble, or I'll prosecute you personally!" This fact was only half-true. At this point, Cappu feels like he could sue for emotional distress against this entire holiday. Ugh… he does not want to think about all the hoops he'd have to jump through to sue a recognized holiday.
Closing the door behind him, Cappuccino wouldn't even make it halfway across the room before getting another knock at his door. It took nearly all the strength the prosecutor had in him not to just keep walking and ignore the knocking. Though, if he did, there would just be more knocks and more annoyances. And if the parents were stupid enough, Cappu himself would be taken to court for 'unfair treatment' in handing out candy. People these days will cause legal trouble for any reason imaginable.
Turning back around and opening the door with a forced smile, the people on the other side of the door would strike fear into Cappuccino. A nearly perfect trio of costumes- a highly customized card set. Queen of hearts, king of clubs, ace of spades…
Langue de Chat… being the Ace with a Jack of Diamonds in their headpiece... with their parents. "Trick-or-treat!" The three of them would chime together. "Oh, right, uh-" Cappuccino reached over and grabbed the bowl he forgot he left back where it usually was. He was absolutely not presentable. Hair greasy and knotted, attire a far cry from what he'd wear in court. Hell, he wasn't even in costume! For someone who didn't really care much about this holiday, being presented like this in front of people so important made him entirely conscious of his lack of Halloween appeal.
And yet here Langue was, probably in a costume made by their family to match the three of them. They probably got to pick the theme and materials and everything… Slept so well at night knowing how well the costume would turn out. They likely even got to pick the best area to go trick-or-treating in, getting as much candy as-… Wait.
Cappuccino would wind up staring Langue in the eyes as he handed out candy. "You know this is one of the worst places to go trick-or-treating at, right…? Most people around here can barely pay their rent." Unknowingly, he handed out a second piece to Langue… or was that on purpose?
"I know that! You think I didn't research into what places gave out the most candy before we came out here?" Langue would laugh, embarrassing the prosecutor more than his appearance being seen by their parents did. "I chose to come out here to see you. Once we're done trick-or-treating, I was hoping to spend some time with you…" Even while he looks like this? "I know it's sudden, and I had to beg my parents to let me stay so late, but… it's Halloween! I'm staying up late anyways, so may as well make the most of it, huh?" May as well… ha. This defense attorney doesn't know the meaning of 'staying up late' if they seem so happy about it. Even so, with a wobbly smile, the sleep-deprived mess would wind up agreeing.
"I'll clean my place up for you. I mean, it's-" Cappu glanced between the parents that stood behind Langue- "It's already fairly clean, I just need to put away some documents and do a little dusting! I'll, uh. I'll see you later, right?"
"Yes! It should be in… about two hours? Trick-or-treating for this area only lasts three hours." That long? Cappuccino didn't want to deal with kids for two whole hours… But if he was to be rewarded with time with Langue de Chat of all people, how could he refuse a challenge like that? Maybe he'll be able to scrounge together a costume in that amount of time, too. "Oh, right, I also need to give you this." The prosecutor perked up, watching as Langue ever so delicately plucked the jack of diamonds from out of their hair and handed it over to him. "We were planning on having one of my cousins trick-or-treat with us, but they got too busy, so… Tomorrow, if you'd like, you can come with us to the other place we plan on going for candy collection. We'll have your costume set up and everything."
"Oh! I- sure!" Cappuccino would flush at the offer, taking the card in hand and failing to hide how flattered he was at the offer. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool prosecutor demeanor to prevent himself from looking more like an embarrassment in front of the guardians in front of him. It was already too late, but he could at least try to clean up some of the mess. "We can discuss this more once you're done trick-or-treating. I don't want to hold you guys up for too long."
It was surprisingly easy to get the three to move along with that sentiment. The prosecutor would sigh and turn back, closing the door and looking to the card in his hand. Should he laminate this? This felt much more special than he was making it out to be, but… Having not celebrated Halloween for years, and finally being able to with someone so important to him… No, yeah, this is going in lamination. A little 'thunk' was enough to snap the prosecutor from his thoughts. Another cappuccino cup had fallen from somewhere.
It was at this moment that Cappu realized that he REALLY needed to clean the place up. He needed to clean himself up, too. As much of a chore as it would be… this place should at least look livable for visitors. Especially if that visitor is Langue de Chat. Well… Cappuccino took a deep breath, setting the candy bowl down and turning off the porch light. Time to get to a different kind of work.
[Turnabout Identity B - CW: Mental Distress, Recollection of Trauma]
The quiet ringing of a bell hung in the air as a hardened detective stepped through the door of a well-known defense attorney's place of work. The law firm was tidy and seemed like it was kept up with plenty of attentiveness. The investigator, Almond, scoped the area diligently, one hand digging through the inner pockets of his coat for his notebook. However, his digging was interrupted as a door to the next room over was opened to reveal the owner of the firm. Langue de Chat, supposedly. "Oh, detective! What brings you here? Come to bring me updates about one of the cases I have taken on?" Their voice was too sweet for Almond's ears. It was with a sigh that the detective would shake his head and finally pull something out of his coat. His badge.
"Actually, I'm here regarding the situation around your sibling." The initial fear the investigator spotted from Langue made him almost regret bringing the topic up. He hated these emotionally charged cases more than the ones where parties were more apathetic monsters than anything else. "I can always come back later, however considering how busy both of our schedules are, I recommend we get things over with sooner rather than later. Move this whole thing along to put the case to rest."
"The case... about Dele, right?" The attorney would speak slowly, trying to keep themself composed. Eventually, they'd force a laugh out of themself and open the door to their office. "Right, yes. The whole thing is still a sore spot, but better now than never." De Chat would make a motion for Alm to step in and take a seat in one of the chairs meant for clients in front of his desk. "Are you going to read me my rights beforehand?" Langue questioned as they closed the door behind themself and politely seated themself behind their desk.
"Hm. I'm sure you know your rights considering your line of work..." Sweat beaded at the top of the lawyer's forehead at the thought of not being told despite definitely, one hundred percent, knowing such already. "Better to be thorough though." A mental sigh of relief was given through Chat's shoulders relaxing as they went through the whole song and dance. At the end of it, Alm pulled out a cup of black coffee to sip- with permission- between questions.
"...with all that said, do you still wish to speak to me?"
"Yes." Langue spoke firmly, something that had become infrequent after the whole incident they were soon to speak upon.
Eyes honed in on the law practitioner, Almond would sort through the assortment of questions in his head, going over how to be firm without shattering what could be a fragile psyche in front of him. He'd take a sip, keeping a solid grip as he finally decided on what course to take. "Alright... Now, I know you may not remember everything considering the stress you were under at the time, but... I want you to recount what happened that night to the best of your abilities. What happened to Bredele de Cassonade, and why did you go missing for months afterward?"
"Well, you see, we-..." The name of their sibling was a delayed process in their mind. Langue would have their gaze drop to the desk before them, vivid flashes of memories going through their mind. The walk the two had, the severe injuries that- who- who sustained those? "We were walking. A nature walk. It was a break from work- we both needed it." At least their voice was stable enough... even if De Chat couldn't look the detective eye-to-eye. "There was-... There was this landslide, I think? Something with rocks. We both got caught in it, but she... she had been harmed much worse than I had." Pupils wide behind the lenses of their glasses, Langue took to fidgeting with the rim of it. "I- she... I tried to help, I did, but-..." A doctor can't treat themself. The doctor couldn't treat themself. The doctor treated... who? No, she- they-... The doctor didn't treat herself, no, they- what?
Their head hurt. The grip on the rims of the glasses caused a cracking sound that nearly made Langue jump out of their chair, breath hitching as panic started to flood their system.
Almond would sigh softly, putting his hand within Langue's line of sight and waving it to try and get their attention. "Take a deep breath." The detective would state simply, hoping that his words were getting through to someone who was shattering like glass in front of him. "In for five, out for seven. Take all the time you need... I am not going to rush you to say anything, I promise."
The defense attorney would give a near-silent whimper as they leaned forward and grabbed ahold of Alm's hand. It was an uncomfortably tight grip, but thankfully this old man's dough wasn't nearly as easy to break as enchanted plastic. "Th-thank you, detective..." There was half a thought to correct Langue and have them call him Almond much like anyone else- but doing so right now probably wouldn't have boded well for the person with the stability of wet paper. "Um, s-so... she- she didn't make it. I couldn't- I just- there was so much going on, and seeing here like that, I just-... I just..."
The typically composed and confident lawyer was anything but; beginning to wail and sob, Langue couldn't keep the farce up and let it all out. Crying with unabashed grief and fear, they'd lean their top half against the desk whilst gripping Almond's hand like a lifeline. At this rate, it may as well have been. "I couldn't save her! I- I- I failed as a sibling! As family! As- as a-" A shaking breath tore itself into Langue's throat as a sharp pain felt like a dagger being stabbed into their head. As what? A lawyer? Lawyers don't know healing! Mending! Mending- no, not- not that. Who would use mending for medical? Ridiculous- that's- that's just-...
"My... It was too much. I-I ran, I think. I just-... I couldn't st-stay, I couldn't, s-so... I got- I got... lost?" Good enough of an explanation. Speaking coherently was hard enough thanks to the pain that was shooting through Langue's head- let alone saying something that would make sense for the situation. They weren't even lying- they could never- so why? Why was recalling this so difficult? So blurry? So... wrong?
No admissions of guilt, Almond would think beyond the emotional stakes at hand, though there certainly was plenty of grief to sift through. The sleuth felt lucky enough that his hand wasn't broken by now considering the distress. It would be for the benefit of getting a less distorted retelling, and for the benefit of his hand not being snapped or sprained, to give a small break in the retelling. "Alright, alright. You don't have to go into any further detail for now. Seems like you have enough on your mind already. How about we change the subject, huh?" Alm was pleasantly surprised that those wide brown eyes were even capable of looking at him. Though... Langue always had green eyes in their photos, right? He'll set that aside for later investigating- right now there was a wet dog of a person hanging on his words.
"Right, so..." Ugh, now this was awkward. Almond tried to give a small tug on his arm, but Langue de Chat was absolutely not budging from holding onto someone. He'll have to work that out of them, then work more information. "How have you felt returning to work? Records show you have succeeded in every case since your return. Seeing some of them in person, I'm surprised your more cautious, precise approach you've taken has worked out."
"A-ah..." Langue would struggle to find proper words, but eventually get something out. Even if their voice was still shaken like a trauma cocktail. "I have simply... learned... new methods. B-being at work is where I feel I'm at my best! Defending innocent people, seeing them smile, it's... I-I could not ask for a better job, sincerely... Sp-speaking of, ah, cases! May I go on about one in particular I enjoyed defending for...?"
Finally, Almond was able to pull his hand back. There was a quiet 'sorry' heard from De Chat as he rubbed the soreness out of his muscles. That's going to be sore for the rest of the day, huh? Ugh, figures. "So long as you aren't breaking any contracts and the case is already settled, then sure. Go wild."
...funny. Langue never seemed like the type to ask permission before rambling, did they?
[Turnabout Identity - CW: Murder, Death, and Mental Distress]
There's something... odd, seeing someone stop moving. Stop breathing. Stop... living. The doctor took a shaking breath as resuscitation was useless- and before them laid someone of high importance. Unmoving. Not a single sign of life. Bredele de Cassonade would laugh weakly, hands still over their sibling's chest that refused to give any form of movement. The blood inside of her was unmoving, and they knew there was no way back up from this. No amount of restorative magic nor medical equipment could fix this.
Feeling over Langue's stomach at the flesh that had warped itself together like plastic under a heat gun, Bredele's stomach twisted as the realization slowly dawned on them that their sibling was... dead. Gone. Permanently taken from them. Though it did not process fully, the doctor would grip the flesh in their hands- though not enough to hurt, as if there was some part that still believed that Langue was alive. Still with them. Still... them? The practitioner shook their head, too stunned to realize how their tears were falling and wetting what was an already dirty and tattered suit. Was this Hell? It felt like it.
Hell was the only appropriate name for a place like this- a place where De Cassonade had finally failed their job as a doctor- as a savior- as a family member. Bright red and the darkened red of staining blood would coat the doctor's vision, unable to process their sibling's expression of terror that would be forever her last expression. A faceless body, unrecognizable despite being in clear sight beyond the tears. Being begged not to operate... What a fool. Langue would never have made such a mistake, forcing such a terrible fate onto someone so dear. Langue... oh, de Chat... Only the dead go to Hell, don't they? Then what was she doing here?
Motions felt like a blur. Standing up felt like digging themself out of the ground that they'd be burying their sibling in. Gently plucking the glasses from their blurred-out face, the other sibling wondered about the name of the one before them. Taking her suitcase, searching her pockets, patiently buttoning her suit back up as if preparing her for a burial... The only one alive would stand with a slump, looking down at the mass of motionless flesh that lay before them. That was... Bredele, wasn't it? Right. It only makes sense a doctor can't operate on themself. But what does she know? She's just a lawyer.
Swaying where she stood, De Cass-, no, De Chat would push through the dizziness and search through the suitcase she had picked up from the body before her. 911. Her parents. The conversations felt silent- not a single word processing as her legs began to carry her home. Phone in one hand, suitcase in the other... living behind something that her brain couldn't piece together. Something happened in the woods. Bredele wasn't moving. She'll be home soon. Feeling as if she was peering from the back of her own head, Langue would continue to wobbly step through the woods, leaving behind mistakes that she'd never make. Her sibling though? Ha. Maybe... just maybe they would.
