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Summary:

Bo or Pippins #4532, The door that calls and wants her and its effects on her.

Notes:

wrote this on a boat with the Bo plush to further explore the effects of the corridor

Work Text:

Bo —yes Bo that was his…her name, someone gave that to her. She can barely remember what they looked like, she— curled upon herself. The disgustingly warm covers of the forever expanding blankets and pillows didn't give her any warmth. It felt like his– her body was missing something. Maybe it was the way of regulation of her own body's temperature, (Can darkners even do that?).

The pippins, yes she was a pippins. She had a dice for a head, she liked being rolled, being spilled and…

The pippins curled, trying to think on what she was supposed to be doing. She remembered running a minute ago. Was it a minute ago? It felt like it happened yesterday, it felt like it happened a week ago. But he was running. But she was running. It felt like she was trying to find something. Or was it someone? She remembers other darkners like her— Pippinses… right Pippinses. Was she finding them? Maybe.

No! It was a door! Bo was trying to find a door because… because she wasn't supposed to be here.
She wasnt supposed to be here this long.
How long ago was the last time she was outside?
She can't— Of course she can't remember.

Bo felt like a puzzle, a puzzle that's now slowly being pieced together again. She can think now, it was quiet, it was quiet.
She stood up from her position, this brief window of lucidness being her chance to get out. She remembers trying to stay here for only a day or two but the feeling of silence.
The feeling of no screaming and oddly placed joy overwhelmed the pippin and this place just took them. Bo quickly up and ran to a direction, it felt right. It felt like the correct way
All of her pieces told her this was the correct way to get out.

But this place twists. It twists and turns and curls upon itself. It eats whatever it comes across, it eats itself if it so happens to loop to its own tail. She calls upon a memory. A memory of her legs freezing, cold as ice, gard as stone, literally. It started to eat her, petrification. It didn't feel nice. She only got out because the door was so close and someone had opened it just like this time, giving her mind back.

Bo runs, legs aching now, muscles burning, sweat dripping. She ran and ran until she tripped. Foot snagging on a wild pillow. She swore, she swore so much and picked herself back up.
She raised her head, eyes focusing on a light, a different kind of light, the light of the green room. The door.

She grunts and runs again, runs toward the door and—

She's out.

Falling again. Face first on the floor. A Pippin staring at her weirdly.
She coughs and rolls to lay on her back. The other's eyes still on her, with that odd judgemental stare. She gathered herself, for the second time.

“Sorry— I was stuck in there for a bit and I was… desperate.”

The Pippin still stared.
The Pippin shrugged.
The Pippin entered the door.
The Pippin came back out with a box of something. Of course its normal when she's out—when she would want to either warn others or ask for help. She tried that before but the darkners just found her odd, thought she was going insane.

The Pippin left with the box.

Bo stood in the empty green room. Blankly staring at the door again. The door that led to a normal storage closet with normal boxes filled with normal stuff. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Turning to leave. To leave and go rest at a normal room, at her room… if she had one. She cant remember still.

She wanted to come and live normally again.

Come back… Please… Im lonely… Come with us… It's safe… Its better…

She wanted to be normal but it whispered for now. It calls. It felt like it was both whispering in a language she was familiar with and also something so eldritch. It was grating. It was maddening.

Bo wants it to be silent.

The door felt like it was staring.
The door felt like it was telling her;
It was the answer.

Bo didn't want to choose that answer.
Yet her body and mind craves it.
She craves it ever so badly. She craves the normalcy inside. She craves to be normal inside. Her body and being craves to feel the silence. Her body and being craves to feel.

Bo scratches at her wrists.

It takes all of her power to walk away.

It takes less to walk back in.

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