AFT Post #19.1 Princess Tepes !UdvEXCbuyo 2009/05/28 (Thu) 00:28 No. 28890
Well, we were right next to the library anyways; I figured Flandre should probably get her lessons done for the day while she still remembered how to act around Patchouli. However messed up her head might have been, it was obvious her memory was hardly top-notch; I might have ventured a guess that even mine was better, and that would have been saying something.
Shrinking back a little from her finger-prodding, I suggested, “Time, umm…well, walking around the mansion wastes a lot of time, doesn’t it? And we’re right here next to the library anyways, so, I guess—“
“Hey yeah, Patchy!” she interrupted, her spirits rising. She congratulated me for my idea with a hearty pat on the back, and then asked me if I was okay as I peeled myself off the ground, wheezing for breath. After a confusing apology from her, we walked side by side towards Patchouli’s laboratories on the first floor, where Flandre said she’d probably be. True to Flandre’s habits, she talked all the way there, spinning my mind in circles once again. I wondered…if I just ignored her and tuned out her words, would it make the hurting in my head stop? I was always trying in vain to understand her, but did I really have too? I made a note to think about asker her once I was more comfortable around her. Probably sometime in the next year if I worked really hard.
“Patchouli Knowledge…That’s a good name, know that? You know, sometimes she gives me chocolates n’ stuff if I’m a good student? ‘Cept then I get my fingerprints all over everything. She doesn’t like that. She’s kinda boring sometimes too. Boring old schoolteacher, like in an old-stylish book, except she’s not old. Well she is, but then she got better. I promised I’d make her be funner if she made me be smarter. Dunno who’s getting the shorter end of that stick yet, though. How can there be a short end of the stick, anyways? I mean, it’s just two ends, right? I should ask Patchouli these kind of things though, not you so much. You just get confusuled and shake your head, kinda like right now. Yeah, I know I talk too much. See, all you gotta do is just tug my sleeve and look at me all indignant-like and say, ‘Hey, Flandre? Shut up.” And that’ll make it all better. Go on, try it!”
Did she…She didn’t just ask me to tell her “Shut up”, did she? What kind of…And why would anyone, sane or insane, ever tell you to insult them? I shook my head meekly. Saying no was defying her—defying my charge—but this was just, just a joke, right? Yes, it…it had to be. She wouldn’t make me do something so rude and discourteous, would she?
“M-Miss, please, that’s very, umm…very unkind. I wouldn’t ever want to tell you something like that.”
“Something like what?”
“Well, something like…l-like, umm…” It was a trap! And I had fallen for it! Oh how stupid I was, so stupid for falling for something so simple.
“Go on, go on little fairy girly. What don’t you want to do again?”
“I don’t want to…to, to insult you, Miss!”
“You won’t, I promise. I’m a tough lady, I can take it! Sticks and stones can break things, you know that? It’s just two words, it’s easy!”
“Please, Miss Flandre…I, I don’t w-want to—“
She grinned at me. “Look, look. First you say ‘shut’, like shutting a door. Say it with me, now: shhhuuuuutt.”
My cheeks felt like red coals, and my face had to be on fire by then. I turned away, or tried to, but Flandre turned my head back around to look at her. So embarrassed… “S-s-stop it, miss. Please, p-please stop—“
“Then, then you say ‘up’, like the sky or the ceiling. Uuuuuupp. Shhhuuuut. Uuuuupp. Shut up. Shut up, Flandre! Shut up! Just, just why don’t you just shut up?!”
“I don’t…I can’t say…”
“Hey, no, you shut up!”
Suddenly, Flandre had somehow worked herself up into a frenzy at the statement, and started outright shouting…shouting at me. I thought…I thought that she was just joking about the whole “Shut up” thing, but now…this, this wasn’t funny anymore. I was afraid. Afraid of her, of what she might do…And this time I had a reason to be.
“What, what is this, you’re still talking? Still acting all scared and mumbling about things people don’t care about? You’re making that little girl over there scared! How rude is that?! But she won’t listen to you unless you just push her out of the way and give her some lip! Just sit down and shut up, Flandre! No one cares about what you’re saying! Not now, not ever, you hear?! What, do you, do you think they actually want to know about your opinion on, what, chocolate covered brownies?! But…it’s so, it’s just so…redundant! You’re…Look, you’re covering chocolate…with chocolate! It’s a waste! No, don’t you start again! Shut it up, shut it up now! This conversation, it’s over, OVER, do you here me Flandre?! Not another word out of you! Not! Don’t, ahhahhah, don’t start! Shut! Shut up! I mean it!”
Flandre had given up on actually talking to me directly and was shouting towards a blank area in front of her, thrusting her finger violently at thin air. I cowered against the wall, terrified, one eye shut tight while the other squinted through the cracks in my fingers. So small, not there, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry…She looked, she looked…ahh, what is the word? Not mad, not enraged, not even really insane is the right word. Frustrated, maybe? Extremely, extremely frustrated. By the time she had finally calmed down and walked back to me, which felt like an age, I thought I could see tears drying on her cheeks. What…what had just happened with her?
“S-s-sorry, please, I-I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, didn’t mean t-to…” I pleaded with her, shivering uncontrollably.
She started to hold out a hand to me, or at least it looked like that at first, but she ended up wrapping it around her shoulder instead. “H-hey, little girl? Are, are you not un-okay?”
“Did…I just did what I think I just did, didn’t I? I did it again? No, no, don’t, look, don’t cry, please. I’m sorry, so-sorry-sorry, I try not to be like that, I really do! I…I forgot, is all. I’m, okay now.”
With Flandre that close to me, I curled into as small a ball as I possibly could. I knew it wouldn’t help—I knew she could still see me—but you just don’t think very straight when you’re afraid. I was pitiful, a mockery of the humanlike form my spirit resided in. Shivering, crying, whimpering like the child I was…why, why did I ever agree to watch over Flandre in the first place?
I remember someone picking my little body up and carrying me like a kitten, patting my head consolingly and whispering something to me I forgot. Was it Flandre? It must have been. All I know is that when I finally had the courage to open my eyes again, I was in a very different room than before.