[x] ...she had fragile, insect-like wings on her back, reminiscent of a fairy. Unlike her maid attire, it was apparent that these were most definitely not a costume. It took delicacy not to damage them.
Ignoring the mockery of anatomy as you knew it, she looked like a normal eight year old girl, brown hair messed up by the elements. Her clothing looked like they came from either a maid cafe or the setting of a regency drama, but the snow had been unkind to them as well. But the wings were definitely her most striking feature. Now you hadn't exactly seen a dragonfly in real life, but if the pictures you seen on the internet were any accurate judge it was similar in structure and transparency, scaled to fit the girl. You wonder what exactly she is, mentally trying not to use the term 'fairy maid.' The term seemed to push the already strained boundaries of what you deemed sensible.
Fifteen minutes, two cups of tea and a biscuit was what it took for the aforementioned wings to start flutter against the blanket and for her to stir. Her hazel eyes were blurry as she blinked once, twice, before focusing them on your own.
The stare off lasts far too long to be comfortable, causing you to tentatively raise a hand in greeting, other hand holding a cup of tea. She looks at your greeting, then at at the tea. When she speaks, her voice was as weak as she looked.
"Sorry for intruding."
?
The blanket was still wrapped around her as she took a biscuit from your offered plate and bit into it. She hadn't said anything more, and you were about to initiate conversation when she talked again.
"Thank you. For the blanket and the food."
You shrug. "It was nothing much. I couldn't leave you there on the street in the snow, could I?"
At this she pauses her eating to frown at nothing in particular. Noting this, you continue, "Do you know how you got there in the first place?"
She shakes her head. "No. No, I don't." She sighs in resignation, accepting this fact as if were something that happened sometimes, like a rainy day. "I am sorry to say that I will be in your hands for a little while yet, but it won't be long until I have the strength to return back to the Scarlet Devil Mansion."
"The what?"
The girl matches your confused look with one of her own, before rearranging the blanket to show her outfit. "These," she explained slowly, "Show that I work for Mistress Scarlet, or the Scarlet Devil." She paused to think. "You mean there are other people that share similar..."She waved her biscuit around, trying to conjure an appropriate word. "...taste?"
You shake your head. "I don't even know who Mistress Scarlet is." You also don't know what kind of person hires little dragonfly girl to perform maid-like duties.
Her eyes widened. "What? But it isn't as though she's very shy. And everyone knows about the scarlet mist...incident..."As her voice trailed away, a look of abject fear dawned on her expression.
"Is something wrong?" you ask, feeling extremely foolish immediately after.
She didn't answer. Instead, she bit into her biscuit. No one talked as she talked as she tore into the snack, or in the long silence that followed after she finished it.
"May I ask a question?" she asks quietly. Unlike before, her low tone was not backed with certainty, rather, it had no skeleton, no frame. A stiff breeze would all it would take to make it collapse.
"Fire away."
"Where am I?"
As you tell her your address, her face fell from fear into despair. Well, that would not do at all.
"You said you worked for a Mistress Scarlet at a Scarlet Devil Mansion, right?" She nods.
"That should be enough," you say with confidence, despite the dragonfly girl's confused look, "I'll just get a cup of tea and my laptop, and I'll see what I can do."
?
Her confusion only grew when you placed your laptop on the table and turned it on. Yelping and almost dropping her cup of tea when it played the start up music, she tried to recollect her composure by motioning at your user name and asking, "Is that you?"
You nod. "Yeah, that's my name."
As you type in your password, you hear her saying your name repeatedly, trying to get a feel of it. When you log in, she says, "That's a nice name."
"What about you?" you reply, "Do you have a name?"
"Yes," she answers, before pointing at your laptop again, "What is this?"
Frowning a bit at the deflected question, you answer, "A computer. Specifically, a laptop."
"What does it do?"
You think about it as you open your browser. "A lot of things."
The dragonfly maid turns to you. "Can it get me home?"
"That's what I'm going to find out." You type 'Scarlet Devil Mansion' into Google. You remember your teacher, for IT if you recall correctly, saying something along the lines of the search engine being a fantastic tool so long as you don't let it do the thinking for you. Either way, if anything knew about where this girl came from, it would be the internet.
The girl in question was astounded by the results. "That's it," she breathed in amazement as she stared at one of the pictures depict a luxurious palace-like building made of red brick, "But how is that possible?"
Raising your eyebrows at the comments, you decide to see what Wikipedia has to say about this supposed mansion.
?
Well.
That was somewhat...eerie.
You could vaguely remember being taught about stuff like the Mary Celeste and other paranormal mysteries in primary school, but you don't recall anything about the Scarlet Devil Mansion. According to Wikipedia, the house was infamous for appearing and disappearing all over Europe, even popping up in the background of a landscape painting of the American Plains. The Mansion was last seen in England, where it disappeared and was never seen again. If that wasn't spooky enough, the 'Scarlet Devil' title was tied up with legends of psychotic vampires leaving entire town drained of life wherever the Mansion decided to materialise.
You turn to your guest, still staring at your laptop in wonder. This girl, with her maid dress outfit and dragonfly wings, supposedly lived and worked in this phantom house. Her very existence just got curiouser and curiouser. You still didn't know her name, what she did, or even what she exactly was, and she had proven herself capable of avoiding answers she didn't want to reveal. Pestering her with too many questions may not go down so well.
Still, you needed to know more about your guest.
"Say," you start cautiously, "May I ask a question?"
Write ins are your friend: [x] Ask questions.
Optional decision: [x]Name our protagonist.
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If I just gave you a list of questions to ask, I would expect votes listing all the choices asking me to build a wall for you guys.
I'd vote for. So in light of that, I leave the responsibility of coming up with questions to you guys. Hey, it might inspire some discussion! If the creativity well has truly dried up, I might provide possible questions to ask, but it shouldn't come to that.
Oh, and if you want an actual name for 'you', you can suggest some, if you wish. If any suitable ones stand out, I'll use it for our yet unnamed protagonist.
>>47858 Happy to see that you're that interested. I hope to live up to expectations.