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What do you even say in a situation like this? There's no manual for talking to a person that laid buried in front of you.
Metaphorically, at least.
At least he isn't staring at you. The multitude of eyes present upon the dark figure laid shut, ominous luminiscent glow under each slit.
Naturally, it was Jax, but it wasn't Jax. A body no longer recognizably his, not even— it. An amorphous blob present, huddled up against a myriad of pillows on the ground in a resting position. Laid almost to rest, were it to be judged so.
Gangle's hands curled inwards, unsure. This trip itself had been done covertly, at any point could someone notice her absence - even starkly in the middle of the night - and go look for her. Why was she making a secret out of it?
She couldn't explain, frankly.
After sliding past the heavy curtains of the makeshift refuge, coming to see the resting figure that had remained dormant for many days now— only then upon making sure of its immobility did the ribbon avatar dare to come closer…
… and eventually rest by its side.
It felt so dizzy of a sensation. No matter how much she pondered in silence, how much she cried by herself- and then immediately felt a monotone apathy the day after, a solution it was not. It felt more like a stopgap, a… curtain put over the reality of the situation. Because the truth was, Gangle had never been given closure.
Everyone had their happy moment realized, seemingly! Ragatha found true confidence in Pomni's friendship, Pomni herself made her own peace with Jax, Kinger got a connection with his creation through Caine. And Zooble, dear Zooble… they had her, but, Gangle's life here was never purely about Zooble.
It had existed long before they even came to the circus. And that chapter never quite closed, yet it did. She was seeing the book lids' shut state right in front of her eyes in fact.
And that, that, wasn't something the others could quite understand. Zooble, perhaps, got it the best— she had 'complex emotions' and that's… true… but it is deeper even. A tug at her heartstrings, a feel of her chest cavity caving in whenever she thought of that figure so malicious yet so complicated at the same time.
Gangle didn't want to bother the others, not with her emotional unresolvedness. Why?
Because this question had been responded to. A problem with a solved solution. She had made her peace, she had gone through the past in her mind, and come to accept that there was no fixing what happened. Because he was gone, and what happened had happened. His reasons were ugly, explored, remained ugly, but he was still human and so it was fine to miss him. That should be it.
And yet, hearing from Pomni glimpses of what happened (she would not betray his trust and share the full width of what happened in there), the implications alone… so intrinsically human that Gangle couldn't avoid tearing a hole within her very heart whenever the thought erupted. There was more to him?
That ugly, botched timeline of events. So full of misery and sadness, of whining, of false feelings, of vague promises, of unkept moments, of everything.
It didn't need to be like that?
And so, at the time, she cried, and she felt nothing, and then cried some more.
Gangle's ribbons twist further thinking of it.
And when she felt nothing again, she was resolved to come here and deal with her feelings once and for all.
Now, here she was laying— her ribbons feeling the vague… warmth? Fuzz? Of the boundary of abstraction near her. She was aware enough not to directly lean against it, and it— Jax was not moving much to threaten contact were Gangle to stay where she was.
A long moment of silence ensues, taking in the odd, almost static-y hum that comes out from being near him.
It's relaxing, oddly. She can't see much within the darkness of the tent, so auditive input remains as the other important sense in this place. Only the subdued glow of the abstracted eyes barely filtering through the shut lids gives a light ooze of color near her ribbon body.
Soon, however, the thoughts come back up.
The abuse, the bad-talking, the denigration. The focus, the attention, the odd juxtaposition of these two in a sick and twisted combination.
Before she knows it, Gangle's words are flowing out, not quite directed at him- and neither quite directed at her either.
"This isn't fair. Why do you get to do this and leave me by myself? Without trying even once?" She huffs, "I can't move on."
The pit deepens. Gangle's mask tilts downwards, the apathetic expression upon it slowly wiping away for a frown.
"Everyone misses you, but my only memories are terrible. They…" A pause, facade twitching further in a bout of sharper upsetness before regaining her composure, "… keep saying… how you were nice at times. She mentioned how deep down you were j-just… wronged."
"Why didn't I get any of that?"
Her mask dares not turn towards the mass.
"Why wasn't I given a glimpse of your attention? I hate you."
The catharsis of saying that word is exhilarating, liberating. A wave of chills runs through her body. Yes, yes! To hate! That was what she needed, that is what… she longed after, the ability to talk back, to respond in kind to everything she had been getting all this time. This is it.
But it doesn't feel right. That frown never leaves her face despite it.
It doesn't last anywhere near long enough either. The high leaves an immense hole behind it soon after; one that quickly fills, as if a dam breaking into the valley downstream, by a deep sense of ravaged, needful despair.
"What was my sin?" She pleads, "Why is it that the only face you let me see was that of punishment?"
"Now I have to live on and mourn something I was deprived of."
Her knees bunch up, and her mask digs into it, wishing to ignore the sound of tears hitting the floor by this point. Whatever reason she had for coming here originally was fully absent from her mind, replaced by just a mere need to talk. To speak. To open up and… say … everything.
"I miss what could've been you."
…
Gangle isn't sure how long passes after that, her body felt feverishly weak.
The emotional outburst sapped every ounce of strength that was in her mind, and even lifting a single ribbon felt like a monumental task. Her walls were down, metaphorically and physically; even as the increasingly sharper buzz of abstraction grinding against her body strengthened from the closeness of her sharper and sharper lean… she couldn't find the strength to shy away from it.
Further in, it hurts. But she can't move away.
The words "I miss you." come out less intentionally spoken and more like a natural passage as soon as resistance drops enough. And with that giving, something else slips in.
Her vision flickers hazy at the edges, a bathe of blackness through her very sense; and then it all blackens.
Subsuming, subsuming. Deeper in.
The miasma is thick and syrupy.
Constraining, in every single way. Suffocating.
It felt like just being here was imprisoning. Was this what he felt? Moving an arm equated in effort to lifting her entire body weight, yet the challenge was wholly mental. The very weight of her thoughts passed through her consciousness, as if lagged, visible and with a vivid border.
For what feels like an insurmountably long wait, there is nothing. Solitude, perhaps equal in weight to that of the fog around her body and mind. Gangle didn't feel panicked about this though, it was odd, the sensation was more akin to…
Regret. An emotion not entirely of her own making in this moment.
Soon, though, a voice rings through it. And despite the earlier sensations, the ribbon avatar's mask snaps over to its direction with a speed and ease betraying the previous struggle.
"You didn't have to come here, you know?"
The voice feels disemboided, for when her eyes focus, there is nothing present emitting it. But Gangle knows whose tone it is, who it belongs to.
"You might as well leave, Ribbons. You said it out there already, I made you hate me."
".. T-That's not—" Gangle catches herself speaking, surprised by the sudden ability to do so. Heavy, still, but workable. "… I'm here because that isn't true."
Suddenly, the voice feels behind her very neck, whispering, yet screaming at the same time. "Then what is this? Self-harm? Only thing you gotta question is which way it's going…"
Gangle turns around sharply on her heels, yet once more— nothing. Her face frowns again, replacing the previous look of surprise. "J-Jax! I'm trying to do something here! Please. I'm…"
There isn't a response for several seconds, and the oppresive silence of that black void begins to fill the space back in, before—
"What."
Gangle blinks.
He's there. A figure, it… looks like Jax. But there's something subtly off. The way he looks at her, how his eyes are formed. There's something else behind them.
"Are you here looking for my apology? So that you'll feel better?" He states, monotone. Dry. There isn't an ounce of humor or ridicule behind it. "Get on with it. The longer you stay in here the more it rots into you."
"N-No, not an apology. Or… " Gangle pauses, her mind catching up to her words. Her intentions feel unsure even know, and even if Jax's oppressive nature wasn't bearing upon her as usual, it was still him.
"… I just w-want to know why."
The lapine stares. Motionless, eyes shrunk slightly. But the voice doesn't change register, doesn't mock or despair. It just repeats in the same, tired tone. "It won't change anything."
"I—I know…"
"So you just want to confirm I'm a piece of shit. Maybe you're having doubts if any of it was ever really intended." Jax answers with a small frown growing upon his face. "Would it make you feel any better if I said it was? If I said it wasn't?"
Her mask doesn't reply. No matter what answer she gave, it wouldn't feel true enough. Instead, Gangle's face merely dips down, an upsetness growing along it graver and graver.
"… Look," He continues after a sigh upon seeing her pitiful form, rubbing half of his face. ", you came at a very uneventful time, and I— fuck.. ugh, I was a little shit, and I didn't like how easy-going you were at times. So I took it out on you. There, content?"
Gangle pauses.
"… N-No."
Jax's head picks up, tilting with an almost-incredulous look upon the facade.
"You… Y-You called me your friend. You p-pulled me along everywhere, and I—I am sure it was a game. I always… k-knew that it was just mostly a game of y-yours, Jax." Gangle's eyes flip upwards, staring back. There is, however, not an angered gaze— but a pleading one. "Because there was something else, t-too!"
"I could s-see it, dimly before, b-but, after Zooble came over.. you kept staring at me. Ragatha t-told me how you wondered how I could be happy…" Gangle huffs, stepping closer. A step that feels like it costed her dearly to merely perform, but it felt insurmountable to do either way. "You cared, J-JAX!"
"… That was just envy. Don't get your head in a twist." He looks away, and suddenly, the miasma feels thicker. Like honey to swim through, but Gangle doesn't stop trying to make it through. Another step. "You're building up a fantasy in your head and you'll get hurt over it."
"Prove to me I—I'm lying." She responds, stiffness in her tone- anger perhaps, but righteous anger at herself. Her words burning in her very throat like a cheap ciggarette.
Jax, seeing the ever-nearing Gangle, cautiously plants a foot back. "… you're only hurting yourself by doing this, Ribbons, are you nuts? What are you… you shouldn't be giving a shit about me. Everyone but you."
"Y-You're doing it again. You think you can j—just… make me into a character in a play. I've got feelings, J-Jax! I got… emotions… f-for you. I can't just let you go."
This time, it is his turn to lack a reply. His mouth dissapears, a look of worry upon his face.
The syrup turns congealed. She's standing in front of him, almost locked in place. Set in concrete.
"… I d-don't want you to apologize, Jax." Gangle states, staring up at him. "… I just … want you to not … b-be gone … I wanted to g-get the chance to forgive properly …"
He looks at her, as she's tearing up. Formed mouth breaking into squiggly, unsure lines. ".. I d-don't want to remember you like I do. P-Please, come back…"
Jax doesn't move. She can't move, she isn't moving. She's sobbing, a sharp huff between labored breaths as she ugly-cried. ".. d-don't leave me l-like this .. y-you're mean. Y-You left me alone, that's — hic — the cruelest thing y-you've done, J-Jax.."
Perhaps the last thing she expected was an embrace. Gangle's body can feel a pair of hands close around her ribbons, holding. The tension of the air softens instantly, the stone-density lowering down to a silken, smooth cream.
"I'm sorry." Jax whispers, tone flat.
"… I can't … I d-don't want to forgive you …"
"… I'm sorry." He repeats, again. The hug tightens. "I'm sorry."
The insistence on those words only breaks the composure of the masked one further, a sharper gasp escaping as tears flow freely, real tears, not those of that faux facade. Her hands wrap around Jax's body finally at this point, and wail after wail come out for what feels like minutes.
She can't know what he's feeling, she wasn't even feeling at Jax's face. Was this even Jax? She wasn't even sure where she was. But all she knew is that she could feel a gentle warmth from the body holding her, and letting go of it was the last thing Gangle wanted to do in this whole world.
But, as all things, there is a start, and there is an end. The hole in her chest slowly fills itself, mostly from sheer emotional exhaustion than any true mending. There just isn't anything else to pour out, and slowly her noises diminish into milder whimpers, then heavy breathing… until there is just stillness.
"… when I o-open my eyes, I-I'll be back." Gangle whispers, holding back another heavy, choked huff. "And y-you'll be gone again."
"Yeah."
She sighs, "O-Okay…"
"C'mon, crybaby." The hug loosens, a little, making Gangle's mask pull back, and -painfully unsure- open her eyes to stare back at him.
There's a smile, wide, typical Jax.
"If you lasted that long under my thumb, you can hold back long enough 'till I'm back."
"Oh, Jax…" Gangle sniffs, and those words alone are enough to begin welling up another ugly-sobbing episode.
But, as Gangle blinks in a bout of forgetfulness of the situation, suddenly, she finds herself not standing, but slumped.
The environment is dark, but not the pitch black of before. Her mask feels wet, however, and as a ribbon comes up to touch and check— streaks of humidity confirm that she had been, at the very least, very emotional up until now.
Furthermore, behind her, she can hear a stirring sound— quickly separating! The large abstraction seems to move, shift and shuffle.
An eye opens, a single one. Its colorful stare focusing deeply on Gangle's mask from up close. The porcelain is lit up in a hundred different hues for a few short seconds.
… slowly, the slit closes back down, and her face is basked in darkness again.
…
…
By the time daytime comes, and the gang reunites as usual near the couches to discuss today's plans — that had become one of Ragatha's more applied ideas, planning out the daily grind of activites — Zooble, as usual, finds their seat next to Gangle.
"Hey. Drawing early today?" They peer, looking at the masked avatar as she laid with her knees bunched up on the sofa, scribbling.
"… O-oh? Yeah, I had um, ideas." She smiles, gently. "Here, wanna see?"
Zooble, never to pass up on a chance to admire Gangle's artistic skills, double nods and leans over.
Within the sketchbook, they can see a number of flowers surrounding what looked to be a little bunny. It laid sleeping amongst the flowers, judging by its shut eyes, and the night sky was present with a number of stars and a half-crescent moon atop.
"Heyyy… that looks.. cute?" Zooble says with just a hint of hesitancy, trying to digest the meaning in a way that didn't immediately spell out the obvious.
Thankfully, Gangle does fill it in after, sparing them the awkwardness. There isn't a hint of reprieve from the ribbon avatar though, a bright smile and a cheery voice accompanying it. "T-Thanks! I was planning on leaving it by Jax after. I'm sure he'd appreciate a little gift e-every now and then."
"Oh." Zooble blinks, not expectign this out of Gangle. At least not this early… what had gotten into the girls head?
Nevertheless, they should be supportive. Perhaps this was her way of coping. Who were they to say it was wrong? "… yeah, sure, we can go—"
"… If you d-don't mind, um, I'd like to do it by myself." Gangle responds, a bit more of a reserved response. "After today's adventure. S-Sorry! Just… feels personal."
"… I understand. I won't get between you two." Zooble nods, "Just… let me know if I can help, yeah?"
Gangle nods, slowly, shooting a bright smile to the toybox.