Chapter Text
So cute.
You look in the mirror, examining your– their appearance. Dark cherry wood hair curtains their face, tickling the nape of their neck, curling at their shoulders. It’s hard to see beneath their choppy, uneven bangs, but you think you can make out ruby-red eyes peeking from the shadows. Though you choose what they do and say, they have almost full rein over the execution, ceding little to no control over their fine motor abilities to you. That’s fine; you don’t need to hear their voice, or feel smooth skin beneath the pads of ‘your’ fingers. Really, that you aren’t privy to their innermost thoughts matters precious little.
The lingering taste of butterscotch on ‘your’ tongue says enough. The way the deer girl looked at ‘you’ yesterday says enough. You don’t need to feel the baby fat clinging stubbornly to ‘your’ cheeks to know that it’s there. It’s enough to learn about them from the people around you.
For now, anyway.
Yesterday, you felt them slipping into a sort of dreamlike half-consciousness, letting you handle the tedious work of exploring and fighting and sparing. You’d have thought they would find it jarring, to be forced into the backseat of their own body, but they took it surprisingly well. They obeyed your requests, molding sword into shield when you asked them to defend, flirting with the Hathys when you bade them to act. Were it not for the way they leapt to defend Susie without your input, their overwhelming dread at the prospect of reading cartoon reviews, or the violence with which they slammed you into the birdcage last night, you might have thought they enjoyed letting someone else take the reins for once.
Still, they never rejected you. The words they allowed you to communicate with the townspeople were… lacking, and often served to confuse people more than they enlightened you, but they never refused to say anything. They allowed you to look at the racy drawing book, allowed you a glimpse of the human care guide before they slammed it shut. In any case, their pliant behavior was very helpful.
Unfortunately, it was also very boring.
As if in agreement, Kris closes their eyes, finally urging you to move on. A rush of thrill ignites in you at the action, even as you obey their unspoken demand. You love when they act on their own.
You’d do anything to see more.
A freezing chill descends upon you. The cold doesn’t bother you, and it doesn’t seem to bother the deer girl (Noelle, Kris helpfully supplies without thinking) either. Goosebumps rise on your arms, but neither occupant of your body is inclined to warm it up. Icy vapor rolls gently off the frozen Virovirokun, billowing up before dissolving into the air.
You turn to look at Noelle. Perhaps it’s just a trick of your mind, but she looks just a little bit stronger, carries herself just a little more confidently than she had a few minutes ago. She flexes her fingers with the air of someone discovering her own power. To her, the frozen corpse may as well have been a speck of dust for how little regard she pays it.
You stuff a CD Bagel into your mouth, conscious of the scrapes Kris has accrued due to your negligence. A little tune plays, and they are made good as new.
What definitely isn’t a trick of your mind is the foreign unease that permeates it. The source can be none other than Kris themself. Again, you can’t help but find it cute.
After all, you wouldn’t have been able to pick Iceshock if they hadn’t thought of it. You had chosen it out of anger at seeing them hurt– who’s to say they didn’t share your frustration? Kris made no move to stop you. You wouldn’t be surprised if, deep down, they wanted to see what would happen, too.
That’s perfectly fine with you. You don’t mind taking responsibility for indulging in their darkest whims. You’ll do anything if it means they’ll wrest back control and show you Kris Dreemurr, outcast of Hometown, instead of a blank slate in the mirror.
Their tongue darts out to wet their chapped lips, without your input. The cold air is dry. Idly, Kris thinks of an irritating classmate encased in a coffin of ice, revels in the imagery for just a moment, before shoving it down. Disgust and a hint of self-loathing that does not belong to you tightens your throat.
You’ll happily satisfy their perverted curiosity in return for fleeting glimpses past the walls of the person that birthed it.
You carry on the motions of adventure, Noelle following closely behind. Carefully, you refuse to allow your mind to linger on the topic of the bluebird. Better not to inadvertently clue Kris in on your little surprise for them. Noelle makes it easy; she talks and talks, and you eat up every word that pertains to your unwilling jailor. Is she really their friend if she can’t even tell it’s not them she’s trailing after?
Poor thing. For every person who waves off Kris’s strange behaviour with nary a thought, you’ll greedily gobble up each crumb with even more gusto, pick apart their each and every action with the attentiveness of an artist scrutinizing their magnum opus.
So you ignore Noelle’s fear of mice, even as Kris begins to yield to the temptation of peppermint cookies and free homework. They don’t need the latter, anyway; you’d do it for them yourself, if only they’d let you. She rambles on and on, oblivious to your jailor’s inner turmoil. It’s funny, almost, how she soldiers on through her obvious discomfort. It seems she’s similar to Kris, in that respect.
You’ll make sure it’s her undoing. You’ll make sure that Kris gets the message.
There’s an Addison selling tea nearby, themed after loved ones. Ripe for mischief, you want to head over right away, clog their throat with every flavor, pick apart the ones that Kris likes the most– but another calls you over, and offers you a deal you can’t, or rather, won’t refuse.
Kris closes their eyes when you cajole Noelle into getting the FreezeRing, as if to deny you the satisfaction, but they can’t unhear the telltale sound of Iceshock. Besides, it’s futile– you’re not doing this for you. Apparently fine motor control can’t prevent you from giving Noelle the ring. You suspect they have little desire to.
You’re proven right, when Kris corners Noelle against the laser of their own volition. Your body moves without your guidance, until the cold glow of the barrier washes over Noelle’s fur. Ice creeps up the machines as she backs up, frozen tendrils wrapping around the metal even as she pleads with Kris to stop. She truly doesn’t know her own strength, just as Kris doesn’t really know what they want. Luckily, you are more than happy to guide the two of them, Noelle through her fear, and Kris through their perverse desire to see where this all leads.
Kris shuts their eyes. Iceshock. Opening them, you observe that the laser is gone completely. Mice chitter inside the hole you were supposed to guide them into.
“I did it,” Noelle says, like a whisper. She won't quite look Kris in the eyes.
Foreign shame seals your throat shut. Now that the rush of adrenaline and burning curiosity has faded, it seems they’ve been replaced with all-consuming guilt for Kris. You probably shouldn’t indulge their feelings for someone so disposable, but… hm. Letting them share the Club Sandwich as a silent apology while you stall for time (Kris takes two thirds, and you’re glad they control their mouth, because you definitely would have choked), you ruminate on this.
As much as you favor your charge, you’re under no illusions about their strength. On their own, Kris is weak. With neither Susie’s raw strength, nor Ralsei’s proficiency in magic, Kris only has you and your determination to rely upon. And while a little determination goes a very long way, it’s best not to rely completely on one tool in your arsenal.
Susie is… ill-suited to your type of manipulation, and Ralsei, while perfectly willing to coddle Kris, is probably aware of your existence.
Noelle is a different story. She obeys Kris– obeys you as naturally as breathing, even as she questions the intentions behind their orders, even as the heat of lasers threaten to singe her fur. Neither you nor Kris missed how she fidgeted atop the switch, painfully aware that should she step off, Kris would be roast human. But she sat still, like a loyal dog, and Kris let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized they’d been holding. Noelle is strong. Noelle is getting stronger.
You think you can do something with this. Mold her into your perfect protector. The girl whom Kris used to prank, now a willing participant in their schemes. Wouldn't that be poetic?
Noelle no longer screams at the sight of mice. Kris obliges your guidance, chasing down each and every living being you find. Where you go, ice and death follow. The Darkners begin to run instead of chase. Noelle convinces herself that this is what she wants. Eventually, it will become true. When you’re gone, the seed of longing that you sowed inside her will sprout. The roots have already begun to poke through the fallow soil; “Should we find some more enemies?” she says.
One day, the world will be her oyster, just as Kris is yours.
The voice inside the dumpster takes your money and hands you yet another ring, wreathed in thorns. You stumble as he drops it, barbs catching on the uncovered skin of your arm, and only Kris’s timely intervention stops you from instinctively pressing the thin cut to your (their) mouth. While Noelle turns around, squinting for signs of remaining life, you examine it.
Blood smears on the ring, tainting the cold metal. Bright, brilliant red, like you. Kris’s unease is almost tangible now, as they look at the ring. It’s very small, a quality that is currently fueling your fantasies. Once put on, it would never be able to be removed. To confer this ring upon someone would be to bind them to you for all eternity.
You’d love nothing more than to slip it onto their finger, watch their soft skin rip and tear at the seams to accommodate the strength of your will. Feel them wince, a pained breath leaving their lips as your thorns sprout beneath their flesh. Perhaps then Kris would finally acknowledge your existence, seizing back control, and you would see who they really are, free of your smothering control.
Because even then, eyes burning with the determination you felt as they protected Susie, it would be your ring pricking their finger. Wholly free of you, and still Kris would wear your love under their skin, caging it between their ribs. The blood trickling down their skin, staining it indelible crimson, would connect the two of you like a thread of fate for all posterity.
You want to be inside them, even when they have a choice.
Kris bites their lip. You wonder if your thoughts leaked through that mental barrier, alerted them to your depraved imaginings. A part of you hopes they did, wishes they understood the depths of your care for them.
If they did, they certainly don’t seem to care. On their own, they roll the ring between their fingers, safe underneath metal gauntlets. Are they picturing the same thing as you? You know it's comforting to believe in eternities, for Kris.
Do they imagine sliding the ring on like an embrace they can never leave, a sting that will never subside, an ache that will never fade? Perhaps deep down, they like the idea; a brother leaves for college, a childhood friend for greener pastures, but you will always be there, in some shape or form.
Reluctantly, you abstain. The ThornRing buffs magic, a meaningless thing for Kris. Besides, it’s a little early to be swapping rings, and you have a feeling that Kris would simply bear the pain, refusing to give you the satisfaction of a reaction. Yesterday you dragged them all across town, and received nothing more than an all-expenses-paid vacation to jail. Self-preservation may not be enough to provoke them.
Something flits through their mind. Autumn red and bittersweet, you cautiously identify it as nostalgia, and… something darker. You can’t quite access Kris’s thoughts in their entirety, but you can sense a memory bubbling up. Cinnamon-spiced pie and snow angels and looking at a childhood friend and thinking I wish we could be like this forever.
Your neck is stiff and unyielding, but you trample over the dawning horror that is not yours, and turn to look at Noelle.