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Bloody, Retrograde Prequel Vignettes

Chapter Text

The first time they met was at the lake outside Scarlet Devil Mansion.

There sat a girl with pale green hair and striking green eyes, wearing a magnificent black hat with a yellow bow and a tan dress with wide sleeves. She had a third eyeball, just flopping around, and it was stitched shut, horribly, haphazardly. She sat on a hill next to the lake, overlooking the reflection of the moon upon its ethereal waters, and she cried, softly but unmistakably. Occasionally a fairy would flutter over only to be vaporized with an offhand flick of a wrist.

Then, a blond girl, with a white and red dress and with Christmas-light wings pranced though the forest. She stopped when she noticed the girl, and she cautiously hovered over to her.

“What's wrong?” asked the blond girl, a curious frown on her face.

The green haired girl jerked up suddenly and wiped her tears. She was surprised to see someone notice her. “Oh, it's -it's nothing,” she said, “Just some big sister problems.”

“Oh, man,” said the second one, plopping down next to the other one, “I know how you feel. My big sister is just the worst,” she began. And she continued, mentioning that just today her sister tried to ground her as she was a 'menace to the mortal world' or something.

They shared stories and doubts and chuckles and they traded names. The green girl was named Koishi, and the blond one Flandre. Flandre took Koishi by the hand and walked her around the lake, a routine that often soothed her and that she hoped would sooth her new friend.

It seemed to work, Flandre thought, but not as well as she had wanted it to. Koishi smiled the kind of smile one does to acquaintances when they give you a gift that almost, but not quite, completely misunderstands the kind of things you enjoy. Koishi's eyes didn't light up all the way, and she frequently gazed downward and occasionally let slip a melancholic sigh.

Flandre asked about the floppy eyeball. Koishi told her she was a Satori, a race of psychic mind-readers, and that Koishi had forsaken the inherent gifts of her race. Flandre confessed she herself was a daywalker. It turned out both their sisters were uncomfortable with their different powers. They griped about it, and yelled impotently to the night air, and then laughed, cathartic-ally, awkwardly, briefly, looking at the ground. This was the opposite of Flandre's intention, to cheer up her new acquaintance. 

A forlorn silence loomed, and Koishi almost bid farewell, but then Flandre grabbed Koishi by the arm and jumped over the lake, hovering a meter above it. Koishi stumbled at first but held on to Flandre's arms, until she lost her balance and braced herself for the impact with the water.

It never came. Koishi tentatively opened her eyes and relaxed her face, and she looked up where Flandre was smirking, holding her arms and hooking their feet together to keep Koishi parallel to the surface of the lake.

Koishi pulled herself up with one tug, and Flandre placed a hand on Koishi's hip, an awkward dance partner as the satori stood a good head taller than the vampire. Koishi balanced on her third eyeball so that she hovered, like the vampire did, and they danced over the water in smooth, graceful arks; arms aloft, hands always joined. They spiraled and bounced and scraped the surface of the pond in splashes sometimes elegant and sometimes playful.

At the end of their dance, Koishi pulled Flandre closer to her, and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl's waist. She looked into Flandre's brilliant crimson eyes. Flandre adjusted Koishi's hat and brushed a lock of her own hair out of her face.

They broke into laughter. Real, honest laughter, the kind that dissipates sadness and forms memories. 

“Thanks,” said Koishi, “I'm so glad I met you.”

“Awww,” Flandre stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. It accentuated the relevant fang. “I'm so glad I met you too! See you again?”

Koishi's heart broke. “Y-yeah,” she said.

They parted ways.

This was fifty years ago.