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Pomni was only kind of listening as Caine talked.
She didn't think she could really be blamed for that, all things considered. To call him verbose would be an understatement-- it was almost impressive, the degree to which he could speak without actually saying anything. She'd long since learned that tuning out his ambling diatribes was the best way to stave off the urge to rip his teeth out of his blabbing jaw.
Still-- this time, she was extra not-really-listening.
Something seemed off. Admittedly, it took her a few tense minutes to figure out what it was, and surprise-surprise, coming to the realization didn't really help. Because the realization was--
"Hey, where's Kinger?"
All eyes immediately landed on her, and she fought the urge to pull her hat down over her face. She'd totally interrupted Caine, hadn't she? (She didn't think anyone really cared about what he was saying, of course, but they still tried to pretend like they did. Talking over him wasn't really keeping that image up.)
"...I guess I don't know," Ragatha said, glancing over at Zooble, who just shrugged. "I haven't seen him today."
Pomni frowned.
Maybe it was just because it had been kind of a formative experience, the first horrible thing in a long, long line of horrible things, but the last time a(n admittedly unstable) member of the crew hadn't shown up for their usual morning tête-à-tête was...
She felt herself blanche, even if she wasn't sure it was wholly visible with her typical pallor.
"I'm gonna go... check on him," she said, pointing not in any specific direction but more just "away" with her thumb over her shoulder. "You guys should get started without me. I'll catch up, okay?"
It kind of looked like Caine wanted to argue, based on the way his mouth immediately opened wide, but Ragatha grabbed his ankle and tugged-- which made him glare at her, but did also serve to shut him up. (Seriously, she owed Ragatha so much.)
"Of course! You take your time, okay? You and Kinger can both join us whenever you're ready."
Pomni tried for a reassuring smile, gave her a thumbs up, then immediately turned and took off at-- well, not quite a run, but definitely a speedy trot. She was actually kind of worried. Even on his worse days, where he'd forget a sentence almost as soon as he'd spoken it, Kinger never failed to show up for group activities. He was, in an ironic sort of way, the most reliable of all of them, at least in that sense.
Which was why his absence felt so-- wrong.
And she cared about him. She cared about most of the other people in the Circus (keyword being most, she could take or leave Jax, and she wasn't sure Caine counted as "people"), but Kinger had been there when she'd really needed it. Even if it had sort of been his fault they'd ended up where they were.
He was steady, in a way the others weren't. Ragatha, bless her heart, was just as nervous as Pomni most days. Zooble didn't really have it in them to worry about anyone most of the time. Gangle, too, had... issues.
Not to say Kinger didn't also have issues, obviously, but when she caught him at the right time-- made easier when he was able to stay coherent long enough to give her a standing invitation into the fort, and she was able to get him in his better moments more and more often-- he was... grounded. Calm. He could help her take it easy when her brain didn't really want to cooperate on that front.
She didn't bother checking his room, instead beelining right for where she'd last seen his fort constructed, off in a rarely-frequented corner of the Circus. She wasn't sure exactly how he moved it, considering she'd never seen him building it or taking it apart, but the pile of pillows seemed to defy most laws of reason anyway. It wasn't really high on her list of mysteries to solve about this place. (Especially considering what it meant to him-- If it was one of those things where digging too deep made whatever strange logic it was stop working right, and she ruined it for him-- She'd never forgive herself.)
The fort was quiet, as per usual, though the slightly more unusual part was the lack of any sort of response when she got close. He always seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was approaching, maybe something along the same lines as its odd physics, but this time...
...Well, it didn't make her any less nervous, that was all she'd say.
"Kinger?" She tapped her shoe on the tile floor, knocking when there wasn't a proper door to make use of. "Are you in there? I just wanted to... I mean, you didn't show up this morning. Is everything okay?"
No verbal response, but a slight shuffling of fabric that could betray occupation. With a frown, Pomni stepped forward, and-- silently hoping Kinger remembered he'd told her she was free to come in any time-- she pulled aside the pillows that comprised the entrance and ducked inside.
The scant bit of light from the gap she'd opened was just barely enough to reach the back of the fort, and in that little bit of illumination she could see where Kinger had ended up-- curled up on his side, hands around his head, tucked into a corner with several pillows scrunched up around him. It kind of sounded like he was saying something, but he was just a little too far away for Pomni to make it out.
She took a step closer.
"It's not, it isn't-- It isn't working-- Why won't I-- I can't--"
Kinger muttered to himself in fits and starts, clutching at his head with enough force that Pomni was kind of worried she might start to see cracks in the polished wood.
She was a little hesitant to interrupt... whatever was going on here, but this didn't seem like his usual level of... weirdness.
"Kinger?" Pomni took another step forward, letting the pillows fall behind her, closing off the meager light from outside. He'd said that being in the dark helped, right? (Even if... nothing really seemed to be changing.) "Is... everything okay?"
"I-- I don't--" He choked on his words, refusing to turn around and look at her. "I don't know. I don't-- know, I don't know, I don't--"
Pomni winced. Whatever comfort the darkness usually brought him didn't seem to be doing much at the moment. "It's-- it's okay, you don't have to worry, just--"
"I don't know anything," he mumbled. His hands were shaking, where she could see them, though a moment later they vanished as he pulled them close to his chest. (Was it just her, or did it get... a little bit darker, just then?) "I can't remember. There's nothing there. It was-- it was important, and now it's-- gone."
(Or... was something wrong with her eyes?)
"It's gone, it's gone--"
Wait, no, it was just as dark as it had been. She could see just as well as before. But still, the shadows around Kinger seemed to be cutting deeper the longer she stared. It was hard to pick out the color of his cape, even where it really should have been distinguishable in the dim light. Wasn't he a paler color than that?
And she couldn't see them, but she could see the light they were putting off, so why were his eyes so bright when everything else was--
Oh.
No.
No, no, no no no-- She knew what this was. She'd seen this before. This was what she'd been so worried about. Of course, the one time she wasn't just being overly anxious like usual, and it had to be--
Fuck.
With a stuttering, static-laden sound, something between a groan and a shriek, Kinger curled forward, and though the darkness around them made it kind of hard to decipher exactly what was happening to him, she could see the way he-- changed. The way he almost seemed to collapse in on himself, soft fabric giving way to jagged, uneven geometry. Angles stretching past where they should have stopped. Aside from the too many eyes that opened to split the darkness with neon colors, he cut a stygian silhouette even though the space around them was already barely visible.
So that was what Abstraction looked like.
She'd only ever seen it-- done. Her own nightmares notwithstanding, of course.
This was a nightmare.
On uneven, disjointed legs, Kinger-- or rather, what-once-was-Kinger (oh, God, he was gone, she hadn't been able to stop it, this was all her fault) -- stumbled forward, approaching Pomni entirely too fast--
"Wait!"
Desperately, Pomni threw up her arms, as though that would actually do anything to stop him. (Oh, God, why her? Why did Pomni have to be the one to find him like this? Why couldn't it have been Zooble, or Ragatha, or-- Or literally anyone else who was even slightly better equipped to handle this kind of tension? Anyone else who wasn't so scared? )
She'd squeezed her eyes shut without realizing. When she didn't immediately die, she risked opening them again.
He was just... staring at her.
Pomni wasn't good at this. Pomni was so scared all the time. More than anything, she wanted to run. Book it back in the direction of the rest of the Circus, hope and pray that she was faster than him, that her slight advantage of not being in excruciating pain would be enough to get her back to the others before he caught her. Then from there they could deal with him together, Caine would be right there, he could just-- take care of the problem.
(Why wasn't he attacking?)
But--
(Why had he stopped?)
You're very strong, Pomni.
She wasn't. She wished she was, because Kinger needed her to be, but--
...Well.
Kinger needed her to be.
(She remembered the cellar, cold and dark and lonely no matter how many people had been sentenced to its abyssal depths.)
If she ran away-- If she left him here--
Maybe Pomni wasn't actually as strong and brave as he'd thought. But that didn't mean she couldn't do her best to pretend like she was, just for a little while.
"It's-- It's okay, Kinger," she managed, voice only shaking a little instead of so badly she couldn't manage coherent speech. This was scary. He was-- looming, curled in on himself, a dozen psychedelic eyes squinting at her from places where there really shouldn't be eyes. But he was still looking at her, all at once, and he wasn't attacking. That had to count for something.
(Kaufmo had been... indiscriminate, for lack of a better word. He certainly hadn't stood still long enough for anyone to try getting through to him, and no, Ragatha's half-hearted attempt at comfort hadn't counted.)
(This was what had happened before, though, wasn't it? Kinger had told her as much. Something about the dark...)
(Well. She wasn't going to squander this opportunity.)
"It's okay," she tried again, a little steadier this time. "I know it's-- hard. And it's scary, when-- When things that used to help don't, anymore. When things change. I've been there, y'know? But--"
He blinked at her with all of his eyes. It created a slow ripple effect that was almost a little bit mesmerizing.
"But it doesn't have to be," she continued, as gently as she could. She reached out, and though she moved infinitely slowly, he didn't take the opportunity to react. Simply stared in silence as she moved closer, inch by inch. After enough tentative creeping, she was little more than an arm's length away, and certainly close enough to lift her hand and rest it carefully on Kinger's... face? Whatever approximated a face, when he was like this.
He did seem a lot less... existentially terrifying, than Kaufmo had. Maybe it was just because Pomni really knew him? Even with his form barely recognizable, he was still Kinger, and he was still her friend, where Kaufmo had just been a strange, hostile force, intent on ruining Pomni's already-pretty-bad day.
Speaking of his form, it wasn't exactly the same as Kaufmo's had been. Not quite so large, so inhuman. Still darker than pitch and with those eyes that stared right through her soul, but she could see the echoes of him in this lanky body, the odd crest at the top of his head. Even his many rows of eyes were slightly off-set from each other. He was still there, it was still him. She just... needed to help him realize that.
"Feeling like you're alone is the worst feeling in the world. I get that. But you aren't alone. We're-- We're here for you. We care about you. And we aren't going anywhere." She patted his "face" again, and she could swear he leaned into it. "Whether or not you remember us, or remember anything, we aren't going to leave you behind."
He made a noise, a sort of clicking-rumbling-buzzing trill, and it was a little hard on Pomni's ears, but it also wasn't incomprehensible roaring, so she'd take it. (It kind of reminded her of... a machine? Something old. Her brain said printer, but that didn't seem entirely right.)
"We've got you," she said, and-- boldly-- took a step forward to wrap both arms around as much of him as she could reach. "We'll get through this together, okay?"
It felt a little like hugging an old television, or maybe a cactus made out of static electricity, but for Kinger, she could grit her teeth and bear it. He'd shot a monster for her, bullied evil spirits out of her body, comforted her when she needed it, held her hand when she was scared. Literally led her out of Hell. A little pain was nothing.
"You told me that. Remember? Back in the manor. I was scared, but-- You were there for me. So I'll be here for you, too."
(Even if he didn't, it was alright. She'd remember for the both of them.)
"We're not going anywhere. So don't you go anywhere, either."
She wasn't entirely sure he could hear her. Still, the more she mumbled reassurances into his front, and the more seconds that passed, the more the harsh feeling seemed to taper off. Maybe a minute or two later it had been replaced entirely with soft fabric in her face. Still, she hesitated for a heart-wrenching second or two before pulling away and looking up.
Not as far up as before. Slightly lower, with just two eyes that were still uneven but a completely normal color, Kinger looked... kind of dazed, and a little like he'd stuck his hands in a puddle of ink (and there was some darkness creeping up from beneath his collar that probably spoke to more lingering discoloration), but otherwise no worse for wear.
He was-- still here. He was himself again.
"Pomni?" Kinger blinked at her. "...What did you do?"
Pomni stopped short.
He was-- he sounded-- shocked. Upset?
Which didn't make a ton of sense, until Pomni gave it maybe another minute of thought. Then clapped her hands over her mouth, tried to stop herself from whimpering, because--
Oh no.
"I-- I didn't mean to--"
She had assumed he wouldn't want-- But why wouldn't he, when he would've had the chance to finally be with-- She couldn't have asked, of course, but she hadn't been thinking, and she just wanted to believe it was for the best but--
"I didn't even-- I thought-- I was only trying to help, I swear, but--"
"Pomni--"
"I just-- I remembered what you said, about your wife, and I thought, maybe if--"
"Pomni."
"And I'm-- I'm sorry, if I'd just let you go you could be back with her now, but I was scared, and I--"
"Pomni," he interrupted, again, and she actually stopped talking this time. He stared at her for several moments, hands on her shoulders, eyes searching.
Then pulled her forward and into a hug.
"...Oh," she said, quietly.
"I'm not mad, Pomni. Is that what you thought?" He laughed, softly, patting the back of her head. "Always assuming the worst. I guess this place hasn't really given you a reason to do anything else, has it?"
"What?"
"Ah. I'm not doing a very good job of this." He pulled away, though left his hands resting on her shoulders, and knelt down to be eye-level with her. (Well, at least partially. One was still a little higher than the other, even if they were both clearly focused on her.) "I should have started with this, but-- thank you, Pomni. Really. I don't know exactly how you did it, but you brought me back from the edge of something terrible."
He paused.
"How-- did you do it, exactly? We've-- I mean, we all have our theories, of course, but we still don't really understand how the abstraction process works. Or how to prevent it in the long term. Keeping ourselves occupied is all well and good, of course, but as we've clearly seen, that can't last forever."
Hoping her uncertainty wasn't too obvious, Pomni shrugged-- though only slightly, to avoid dislodging the hands on her shoulders-- and looked away. (It was kind of nice, admittedly. She'd pretty much forgotten what actual touch felt like, so it wasn't like she found the simulated version lacking. Not when she had nothing to compare it against.) "I don't... really know. I mean, I guess-- I just thought about what you said, back-- back in the manor. About... good memories? And I know, um, going to actual literal Hell wasn't really good, but-- There were parts of it that weren't... totally awful."
Kinger stared at her for a moment or two. Then laughed again, still all soft and warm, shaking his head slightly. "I should've known it would be that simple." With one finger, he nudged her chin, prompting her to look up at him again. "Remember what I said about my memory? That even if it wasn't exactly cheerful, it meant something because I had control over it? A memory doesn't have to be happy to be good. It can mean something even if the actual event taking place was a terrible experience."
Yeah, that... Made sense, in a sort of roundabout, contradictory way.
Every moment Pomni spent in this damn Circus was a nightmare. But... even the nightmares didn't seem so bad when she had someone to talk them out with.
"Still, this is-- Revolutionary! We've never been able to bring someone back from abstraction before. We shouldn't get too hopeful, of course; I don't entirely remember, but I don't think I was completely transformed just yet." He glanced at her. "I wasn't, was I?"
"Not.. exactly. You were--" she hesitated. "...Getting there." Yeah, sure.
"Right. So it's possible there's a certain threshold that serves as a-- a point of no return, I suppose. A limit you can't come back from once you've crossed it."
For a moment, his gaze went distant, and Pomni flinched. She could see the dots connecting in his head as well as she was drawing the lines between them herself.
"So, I suppose that means there isn't much hope for poor Kaufmo..." A sound like he was clearing his throat. "Or-- Or anyone else."
They both weren't saying it.
"I'm sorry," Pomni whispered.
Kinger gave her a sad look. "It's alright, Pomni. I don't blame you. Besides, if I had ended up down there, I don't think there would've been enough of me left to really appreciate it. Even if abstraction isn't the end of the line we thought it was, it still changes you. Fundamentally." He shook his head, sighing heavily. "I've accepted what I can't change. I prefer being here with all of you, where I still have a chance to make things a little bit better. If I can."
He really wasn't mad. Huh.
And he really was okay.
Huh.
Pomni sniffled.
"Oh, dear," Kinger murmured, pulling her into another hug. They weren't, admittedly, the best hugs, giving his lack of some pretty crucial arm action, but what mattered more was the intention behind them. "It's okay. I won't be gotten rid of that easily." He leaned back, and with a wink, continued; "I've been given some pretty good reasons to stick around."
With her best effort, Pomni managed a smile.
There were-- implications, to all of this. Eventually, they'd have to go back out there, tell everyone what happened. Eventually, they'd need to find out if this whole situation helped Kinger's memory problems at all, or just made them worse, or if nothing had changed at all. Eventually they'd need to leave the fort.
But for now, they were fine right where they were. And they could take as long as they needed.
They would both be alright.