Mayday, Mayday!

009. Old Habits Die Screaming

  "Dearie, do you prefer the black or the white gown?"

  Aella-Mae doesn't know. On one hand, the black looks cool. It also resembles a funeral gown and makes her look so pale a kid in the store mistook her for a phantom. The white dress, paired with her red hair, makes it look like her scalp is bleeding. What happened to colors?

  "I don't know," she mumbles apologetically. "What do you—is there, I don't know, gold?"

  The woman frowns. "Gold? Perhaps. You are a daughter of the sky. Why not blue?"

  "Hmm..I mean, both work. I just think neither of these work?" She feels like she's just vomiting the same old phrases. She's getting sick of these dresses. Why is she buying them in the first place?

  Her comments go largely unnoticed. "Gold, blue, I'll see," the lady — Signora, her name is —pulls out a gleaming piece of metal so fast Aella-Mae almost has a blade out. Somehow, Signora remains unfazed. "No weapons in here, dearie."

  She heads back into the storage room, leaving Aella-Mae to stare at her surroundings. Which, considering the fact that the room is full of mirrors, means she's staring at herself. Nice scalp, she thinks to herself. It's an altogether unserious matter.

  "Aella-Mae!" Someone hisses. It sounds like Percy's voice, somewhere beyond the mirrors. 

  Startled, she steps backwards. She misses the edge of the small stage (why is she standing on a round block? In heels? Signora has problems) and a sharp pain hits her ankle. "Gods! Percy? Is that you?"

  "Can she hear us?" The voice echoes through the chamber, though she sees no one but herself. And the lovely scalp on her head. Why does she keep focusing on the scalp? No wonder all her exes ran off.

  She shakes her head, even though he can't see. Probably. "Nope!" she responds. "Am I supposed to? Why are you here?" The mirrors seem to meld together, crowding around her. She sees her face, fractured into a million pieces. Red, like her hair. Red, like blood. "What the fuck, Percy?"

  "Dearie, are you alright?"

  The mirrors are back to normal. 

  Signora holds up a gown of white with gold trimmings. "Is this more to your taste?"

  Aella-Mae nods feverishly. "Yes, yes. Do you mind helping me with the lacing on this one?" The woman does so, before stepping out for privacy. She steps into it, before realizing there are more ribbons. "Signora? Could you help again? Sorry!"

  "It's okay, Dearie." Soon, the ribbons are sliding across her back, cool against her almost feverish skin. "Is that tight enough?"

  "Sure."

  "That's good." She's turned to face the mirror, and she realizes no one is behind her. "Hello?"

  The mirrors are moving again.

✸

  "What the fuck did you do?"

  It's not Percy screaming, but Annabeth is doing a good job of it herself. Now the roles are switched and he's trying to play peacemaker between her and the trembling Clovis.

  "Nothing! She wanted to see some, so I tried my best. She should be awake."

  Annabeth gestures furiously around the room. "Nothing? This is like a voodoo place? Putting her in this old dress? Putting her in the attic, on the chair? Which you stole? She's not Rachel. Why this?"

  "It's the easiest way to reach her consciousness. It was...you know, like, sharing a memory?" His voice trails off.

  "Where did you even get a ball gown?"

  Clovis looks mystified. "A ball gown? It's the oracle's dress."

  "Are you blind?" She snaps. Aella-Mae sits on a stool a few meters away. Her hair is neatly tied up. Her eyes are wide open, but they stare ahead.

  "I didn't...I didn't put her in the dress? She put it on herself, then she sat on the chair. All I did was lull her to sleep."

  "Well, maybe your memory sucks."

  Percy steps between them. "Guys, can we just figure out how to get her to wake up?"

  Clovis sighs, walking closer. "This creeps me out."

  "It's your fault," Annabeth reminds him.

  "Well, okay, if she's being possessed she'll be burning up." He steps towards Aella-Mae, placing a hand on her forehead. His expression turns strange.

  Percy looks at him. "Well? Is she burning up?"

  "No." Clovis says it shortly. "Not at all."

  "So she's not being possessed? What is this?"

  He looks at the ground. "You might want to feel it yourself."

  When Percy places two fingers to the nape of her neck, he feels only a smooth, hard, surface. Too smooth. Like it's manufactured. Annabeth is one step ahead of him, pushing up the one of the sleeves of the dress. She crouches down, carefully inspecting Aella-Mae's elbow.

  "What is it?"

  Percy mimics her, before realizing Aella-Mae's joints are pieced together like a movable doll.  

a/n: the chapters are just weird bro i'm sorry i promise this has a point. poor girl is like dead then barbie 💀 also im sorry its short im trying to! get to plot! so i have motivation to write! anyway im not dead i just love genshin now

eek im a weeb.