Inbox

[skeletonkeay]

INBOX OF GERARD KEAY

Point of contact for Pumpkin Hollow. Gerry can be reached by phone, mail, or a visit to his shop during business hours. Pinhole Printing and Binding is open from 11am to 6pm every day except Tuesday, because fuck Tuesday, or unless Gerry deigns otherwise.

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[skeletonkeay]

Gerry is hard at work when his bell goes off, hand stamping the leather cover of a freshly finished journal. He starts to greet his visitor, somewhat distractedly, as she comes up to the front counter. Before a single word can leave his mouth, however, she silences him, and speaks fervently and at length.

She talks about war, past relationships, trauma, emotional baggage, a relationship. She spills her guts all over Gerry's counter. She is very clearly in love.

And Gerry Key has no idea who she is.

This happens sometimes, to newer people. They think they see someone they know from their own world, only to find out that this version has never known them. It happened to Gerry once already to a lesser extent, with Alice's Sam. But this... feels terrible in a way he didn't expect. For a moment, he can only stare at her open-mouthed like a confused fish held aloft out of water.

"...I, ah. I think there's been a bit of a mix-up. I don't--- I, ah." He's usually pretty articulate, but his words are failing him now. "If you knew a version of me from your home world, I'm, ah. I'm not him."

[cyansoldier]

Gerry turns a slack-jawed expression on her, and were she capable of it— by magic or sheer will alone— Carolina would have sank into the floor. Through wooden planks, through dirt. Deep and cold and shot through by tendril roots. She doesn't know what he means. The joke sails straight over her head, leaving her frustrated; searing hot across the cheeks and nose.

"Hah. Very funny."

But he isn't laughing. She isn't either. Doesn't know if she should be— and doesn't want to. What the fuck are you pulling? Why are you looking at me like that?

Carolina cards fingers roughly through her bangs. "I'm being serious, Gerry."

[skeletonkeay]

"I can see that," he says, not even stopping to jokingly make some gesture indicating to his tattoos at the word "see". Like he normally would. "I really wish I wasn't. I'm sorry."

He pauses, not wanting to just... turn her away.

"...Did we meet in America?"

[cyansoldier]

Anger throbs in her temples, palpably hot where it crawls up her throat. She doesn't know where to place it. Who deserves to feel themselves scotched by heat other than herself. The longer Carolina stands in place, the more fervently it chases through her. Turns nerves and blood and skin cracking black. If this isn't a joke, what is it?

"No, I— we met here. In town. I came in for a newspaper and we talked. You don't remember that?"

Does he remember their shared birthday? The bridal hold she'd had him in, and their talk of a hypothetical wedding? Does he remember the balcony? The kiss? Her name?

Realization, like a shock of lightning.

To trade for your father's love, I will take someone who already loves you.

In her dream- memory- illusion— whatever she's meant to call it— Carolina had assumed this meant her mother. Her wilted garden and the house's absence of noise, evidence to her not being there. It seemed like a fitting trade at the time. Now she's left wondering what's to be gained from taking someone who's already illusory. No, the golden woman would have wanted someone real. Someone like him. Someone who already loves you.

And you ruined it.

Carolina flicks her wrist, a thoughtless, stressed gesture.

"I fucked up. This is my fault. I fucked up. I made a stupid deal I shouldn't have and you were the price— but I didn't know that. I wouldn't have taken it if it meant— this."

Was it worth it? Seeing him? Good. That's all you'll ever get. You should have left well enough alone.

"I'm going to fix this. There's a way to fix this, I know there is, we just have to find it."

[skeletonkeay]

Gerry's heard many unsettling things said to him in his time, but something about what she's just said terrifies him in a way that he hasn't felt since he was very young. A deal? With him as the price? His face darkens.

"What were you working with? Was it a--- like a person with a laugh that sounds like a migraine and really, horribly huge hands?" The Spiral. The Distortion. It has to be. Right? "Or something here? Like--- a man with a deer head?"

[cyansoldier]

"No— no—" deer head? Huge hands? Is this some extracurricular thing she should be concerned about? "It was at the circus. You remember that, right? When the whole town turned all— fantasy and there were tents everywhere? Well, I went into one. I talked to a woman. Tall, pale, golden around the edges. She asked what I wanted most— and I told her."

[skeletonkeay]

Gerry's stomach turns as this only gets worse and worse. He knew this woman yesterday. The Eye within him recoils at the idea of lost information, and the horror of having a piece of his mind just carved out because someone sold off his memories makes him sick.

"The Jolly Dawn stage?" He frowns. "You made a deal with a fairy. You must not be particularly Irish."