Chapter Text
It's not long before they reach the hallway, and Ragatha begins to hunt down the new room. Having passed these exact doors every day for a long, long time, she's subconsciously mapped them out. There's a very specific rhythm to them in her mind, only recently broken up by the arrival of Pomni, but it's been long enough that she's developed a new pattern to make up for it. Just as she's done with every new member of the circus. Just as she'll continue to do.
And, as expected, she instantly notices where the pattern breaks before they've even reached it. First up is the cluster of abstracted members' rooms, followed by a few blank mannequins, then the cluster where her room is situated next to Jax and Pomni. Another mix of abstracted members and mannequins separates them from Kinger's room, then a little more before you reach Zooble and Gangle's rooms. Plus, what used to be Ribbit's room. And… Kaufmo's.
Then it's the end of the hall until you round the corner. So! Backing up to that stretch between her cluster and Kinger's room, where the pattern breaks, they find…
"Hey hey hey, look at that!" Kinger shuffles up to the door eagerly, taking in the brand-new image of Caine in all his googly-eyed glory on the front of it. "It even made you a little picture! I wondered if it would treat your avatar any differently than ours, but seems like it registered you just fine."
Not far behind, Caine walks up to the door. Ragatha steps aside to let him walk closer. Which he does, hands clasped behind his back and taking on an oddly clinical demeanor as he examines the door from every possible angle.
"I think it captured your likeness quite well," Kinger notes. Caine looks up at his picture, seems to zone out a bit. Still doesn't say anything.
Ragatha can't tell exactly what he's feeling, but she's erring on the side of caution today as much as possible. Now seems as good a time as ever to bring up… another issue that's been on her mind.
"So, I think that we should preface something, before going in," she starts slowly, running a thumb over the stitching on her other hand. "There's a very strong chance that you may not like whatever is inside.
It mostly goes unspoken around here. But, over the years, Ragatha has noticed and even talked with the others about a theme, she should say, when it comes to their designated rooms. Obviously, each and every one is personalized to whoever is assigned to stay there, perfectly matching the aesthetic of their avatars. But that personalization tends to be less reflective of their hobbies or personalities, and more… a reflection of their deepest insecurities or fears put on display for anyone to see.
Granted, those things are mostly subtle or easy to ignore when it comes to their rooms. Ragatha lucked out with hers, but not everyone had that same luxury. Jax's room is a mystery to this day, but it's not hard to puzzle out why he's never let a single person look inside, let alone allowed visitors. Whatever is in there must reveal something he's not ready to talk about.
Zooble's room, on the other hand, is one that Ragatha has seen plenty of times. And man, is it rough.
She remembers Zooble's first month or so in the circus, and how it must have been an absolute nightmare for them. They were refusing to stay in their room— for reasons obvious to everyone except Caine, of course— but clearly being driven mad by not having a place to decompress or spend time alone. When Gangle had the genius idea to offer them a spot in her room, Ragatha felt like an idiot for never thinking of that to begin with. In time, they began to adjust, and made an effort to stay in their own place as to not encroach on Gangle's privacy, even if she always insisted it wasn't a problem.
In time, they accepted it, but the discomfort never went away. The few times Ragatha paid a visit, she didn't miss how they kept their gaze locked on either her or the floor, never looking up to avoid accidentally catching the sight of their reflection in the ungodly number of mirrors lining the walls.
She should check in on them, see how their room has changed since gaining access to conjuring. It has to be vastly different by now. Speaking of…
"But!" she adds. "If that's the case, and you feel uncomfortable with your room, we can always change things around! So, if you want something different, don't be afraid to ask."
Caine stares up at her in what appears to be disbelief. She doesn't know if it's the good or bad kind, until he barks a single harsh laugh.
"HA! Oh, Ragatha, I forget you're such a worrier. Have no fear, my dear! Whatever my program generated behind this door, I'm ABSOLUTELY certain that it will be PERFECT," he insists with just a touch more bite than she anticipates, setting her on edge more than before, and oh, now she realizes where she fucked up.
Good job, Ragatha, you somehow managed to forget he's the one who made all of your rooms to begin with and basically told him, to his face, that they don't like them. That there's an expectation for them to be bad, or weird, or uncomfortable, to the point that she feels the need to warn him before ever setting foot inside.
"Uh!" She stammers, scrambling to remedy her mistake. "Th-that's not what I— I'm sure you'll be fine! I just, uh—"
"Ah-bu-bup!" Caine sticks out a finger. Despite him being way too short to reach her face to actually shush her, she shuts up anyway. "No take-backsies! It's in poor taste, wouldn't you agree?"
Ugh… Right. Message received. She's just digging herself a deeper grave by trying to take back what she's already said. With a sigh, she nods, face heating in shame and regret. Caine smiles-- she can't tell if it's supposed to be reassuring or him taking some kind of glee out of her discomfort-- and spins on his heel to face the door, where Kinger is waiting excitedly for them to wrap up their exchange. With the attention on him, he straightens a bit.
"Alright, folks!" Kinger chirps, hand resting on the doorknob. Ragatha's firefly stands at attention atop it, and the sight is silly enough that her smile turns a touch more genuine. It still feels like a strain to keep it up, just slightly less so. "Without further ado, let's see what's behind… door number one!"
He turns the knob, and with a light shove, it quietly swings open. Revealing…
Well. She doesn't know what to make of it at first.
Going into this, Ragatha knew to keep her expectations open. A bedroom designed specifically for Caine, made with the same program that created something as egregious as Zooble's room, could be any number of things. It could be perfectly harmless, an inoffensive little extension of the circus that serves its function without issue. It could resemble his office, reflecting its unique mish-mash of absurd decor with dark polished wood and comfy leather chairs. It could be something incomprehensible and abstract beyond her own understanding, catering to Caine's needs that no doubt differ greatly from those of its usual human customers. It could be enlightening, something that gives her a much-needed insight on Caine's mind and whatever insecurities may or may not lie beneath his unpredictable surface.
She's really, really banking on that last one upon taking in the unique layout of Caine's room. The first thing she notices is the spotlight, square in the center, beaming down on smooth and shiny black flooring that almost resembles glass. It's as reflective as glass, at least, judging by the circles of light bouncing off the floor and dimly illuminating other features in the room: a circular platform against the left wall with a curtain draped over it, bold red and yellow stripes bearing a strong resemblance to the tent; a large lopsided wardrobe to the right with a familiar star and sun pattern on its doors— hey, she was kind of right about resembling his office!— and…
"Woah," she blurts. "You get a piano?"
All three of them lean into the doorway to get a better look at it. Framed by large leafy plants, slightly hidden behind the wardrobe and tucked into the far right corner, is a grand piano. Ragatha realizes it's identical to the one from Caine's… er. Musical number.
Her excitement instantly fades. Okay, so maybe it's a little less fun to see it as a glaring reminder of their former ringmaster's downward spiral that led to the near-destruction of the circus, but. You know. Pianos are still cool. Especially a fancy one like that.
Kinger, seemingly antsy to check the place out, gently pushes past the two and shuffles inside. He stands directly under the spotlight and looks up—
"Ow!" Ragatha winces, blocking her eye with one hand. "Kinger, your glasses…"
The light reflecting off his sunglasses and beaming directly on her face quickly disappears, no longer visible through the thin cotton and fabric of her hand, and she uncovers her face to find him staring. "Should I take these off?" He points to his shades, as if clarification was needed when it's literally his only accessory.
Ragatha looks around the room, debating. Then, she shakes her head and steps inside to join him. "You can keep them on, I'll be fine. As long as you don't look up when you're under the light."
Kinger begins to nod, but freezes, as if afraid that would be enough to blind her with another flash of light. He opts for a thumbs up instead.
Satisfied, Ragatha turns back to the doorway, where Caine is still quietly taking everything in. He doesn't look wary, just plainly curious, and slowly makes his way inside. The second his foot touches the black floor, the spotlight shifts. Landing directly on him.
The sudden shift is enough to startle Caine, who freezes like a deer caught in headlights, staring directly into the light. Ragatha winces at how small his pupils shrink in the light, but he doesn't look away.
"Ooh, your room has a gimmick!" Kinger notes happily.
Caine tears his eyes away from the light to look at the other. "Gimmick?"
His tone suggests that he's prodding for an explanation, but Kinger only nods and wanders over to the stage, inspecting the small set of circular stairs attached to its front. "We might have an easter egg or two hiding somewhere in here." He snaps his gaze to Ragatha and points at his eyes, widening them behind the shades. "So keep those peepers peeled, everyone!"
Ragatha glances to Caine, then back at Kinger, and she shoots a thumbs-up of her own. "Will do!"
It isn't long before Caine shakes off whatever took hold when that spotlight suddenly locked onto him, and they can fully immerse themselves in checking out his room. Originally, Ragatha expected this to be a pretty quick endeavor: just take a look around, check with Caine if he needs anything changed, get out and go about their day. But Kinger's comment is enough to throw all of that out the window.
Ragatha isn't entirely sure what he means by "easter eggs," as most of their rooms are pretty straight-forward. But, she's not about to question the guy who's literally been here since day one, so she's entrenched herself in the hunt for secrets. Her side of the room, disappointingly, is turning up empty. The plants situated on either side of the piano are a nice touch, but hold nothing of interest. She's taken notice of framed pictures all over the walls, originally obscured by the dim lighting, and each one is a completely different environment. She swears she even recognizes some of them.
The spotlight now drifts around the room to follow Caine's every move. And, though initially looking disturbed by this, he's brushed it off by now. He's even experimenting with it, making a game out of seeing where it'll follow.
While her focus is mostly on inspecting some curtains, she watches from the corner of her eye as Caine circles back to the doorway. The moment he steps fully out of the room and onto the bright carpeting of the hallway, the light returns to its original spot in the center, returning to its default position. He puts one foot in the doorway, the light zips back to him. He lifts his foot, it goes back to the center. He repeats this, faster and faster until the light is flying from the room's center to the doorway rapidly enough to constitute a seizure warning.
"Caine!" It's during her inspection of the wardrobe that Ragatha has enough, which comes out in a too-sharp reprimand. Oops.
The ringmaster in question freezes, foot raised mid-stomp. She goes for a calmer, cheerier tone. "Uh. Don't you want to check out something else? Like…" Her gaze flits about, scrambling to find any point of interest and naturally landing on— "Like the piano!"
That gets his attention. Leaving the doorway with only a little reluctance, Caine strides over and makes a show of adjusting his coat. "Well, I can hardly say no to such an offer!" He hops onto the stool, legs dangling off the edge. That showman bravado makes another appearance when he turns to Ragatha and smugly adds, "If you wanted a show, all you had to do was ask."
Ragatha shrugs with an easygoing smile, trying to keep the atmosphere as casual as possible in this rare instance of peace. "Play anything you'd like! I'll be, uh…"
She trails off upon opening the wardrobe. Inside are ten identical red tailcoats, but what catches her eye is the odd one out. A glittery black suit at the end. Her mouth goes dry. "I'll be over here."
Putting her discomfort aside, she rifles through the coat rack. Nothing is there on the back of the wardrobe, which is more than a little disappointing. Seems like a secret passageway that hearkens back to certain classic stories would be right up Caine's alley, but apparently not. It would be cool to have that in her room, she realizes, but how would that even work? Is there a way to make an extra room attached to their current bedrooms, or are they stuck with the space they currently have?
She's surprised that the concept of expanding their rooms is only just now occurring to her, because the idea is instantly appealing. She can imagine Gangle having a small art room, or having her own little reading nook by a window. Sure, the window wouldn't be overlooking a real landscape, but still—
Her thoughts are violently interrupted by a sudden and jarring cacophony of noise. Ragatha flinches away from the wardrobe and covers her ears, looking around wildly, until she realizes it's not just any noise. It's the sound of piano keys being haphazardly smashed in the ugliest combinations possible. Looking to the open doorway, she rushes over to shut it before anybody happening to wander by can be disturbed by the sound.
"Caine!" She shouts over the noise. He has the gall to be perfectly poised on his seat, playing in graceful movements that harshly contrast the awful and discordant noise coming from the piano. "Caine, quit it!"
He halts and looks over to Ragatha, brow raised. The faux obliviousness is just enough to tip her over the edge. Is he seriously going to sit there and look at her like she's the crazy one for telling him to stop? He knows exactly what he was doing!
"Do you…" He looks away, then back at her. "Do you not like that song?"
Another thread of her patience snaps. Her hands ball into fists, pulling at her hair. "Very funny."
The oblivious look turns to outright confusion. Wait. Is he… being serious? Instantly, her anger fizzles out into nothing, hands dropping to her sides.
Caine watches her like she might fly off the handle out of nowhere. "Well." Uneasily, he turns back to the piano. "If you didn't like that one, there are much more civil methods of getting that across," he says curtly.
Ragatha blinks at his turned back. Now she's starting to feel like she is the crazy one. "Caine, no offense, but… was that even a song to begin with?"
She senses a presence behind her and turns to see Kinger approaching from the opposite side of the room. His eyes are obscured by the shades, but she can just make out that his gaze is locked on the piano. He looks very deep in thought.
Finally, he asks, "Can you play Chopsticks?"
Caine regards him with uncertainty, but only for a second or two. He turns to the piano, positions his hands over the keys, and…
Another mess of nonsensical noise has Ragatha covering her ears again. The exact same as last time. Only now, watching his hands, she realizes that something is very off.
Kinger takes notice as well. "That's good," he cuts in quickly, and Caine instantly stops playing. There's clear irritation when he turns to Kinger again and goes to speak, but the words never come. He's startled into wide-eyed silence when Kinger reaches over his shoulder and plays a few keys of his own. Ragatha braces herself, hands still against her ears. Only this time, the sound is soft and clean, nothing like the grating and off-key notes from before.
"You try." Kinger looks back at her, ushering her with one hand. "Those two notes, right there." He guides her hand to the keys he just played, and when she presses down, it's the same result. A bit louder in a way that makes her face heat up self-consciously, but otherwise identical to the notes he just played.
Finally, both of them look at Caine expectantly. Even as he squints at them with suspicion, he takes the hint and plays the same keys. Two completely different notes play that grate against each other harshly, and despite clearly putting very little pressure behind them, the sound is unbearably loud. He gives them a look that says, alright. What now?
All Kinger has to say is a quiet, reverent, "Fascinating."
"Alright, that's it!" Caine swivels around to face them, arms crossed in a huff and fixing them with a heated glare. "What was the point of any of that?"
Kinger beams at him, entirely unbothered by his temper. "We found another gimmick!"
Caine's glare only deepens, visibly frustrated, and miraculously Kinger is able to read the room. His excitement dies down to something more contained, hands folding. "Tell me what you just heard."
"…" Blue and green eyes flick from one human to another. "Is this some kind of trick question?"
"Not at all," Kinger assures, which doesn't do a lot to relax Caine, but the angry set of his teeth does soften. "I can guess that you didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Correct?"
…Caine nods.
"So," Ragatha begins, head tilting slightly. "It only sounds like that when Caine plays it, but it's normal for everyone else?"
Kinger nods, then gestures above them. "Like the spotlight! This room is making significant use of its ability to track who it belongs to, which is very interesting. I'm starting to recognize a pattern, but—" He steps back from the piano, an smile in his eyes so eager that it's reminiscent of a kid in a candy store. "I'll hold off until we've looked at everything."
Watching Kinger wander off to inspect the pictures lining the walls, Ragatha suppresses a tired sigh. At least one of them is having a good time in here. As for everyone else… her gaze drops to Caine. Still perched on the stool, staring at Kinger's turned back, his hands are folded neatly in his lap. Looking closer, they're clenched into tight fists, fingertips digging into the fabric of his pants.
"Um." His eyes snap to her. It's no longer as startling, the more she gets used to it. "Let's… go look at something else."
The stage, as it turns out, isn't a platform or stage at all, but a bed. Neat!
"I haven't seen many circular beds before," Ragatha comments under her breath as Caine hops up the stairs to peer over the unique piece of furniture. It's easily the largest thing in the room thanks to the curtains alone— though it might be more accurate to call it a canopy, encircling the bed perfectly and making the interior look much cozier than Ragatha anticipated. It feels odd to think of anything Caine-related as "cozy," but she finds herself already planning to conjure up a canopy of her own to hang over her bed. Maybe something in a softer pastel color, as opposed to the slightly garish red and yellow on this one. The gold hoop holding the canopy's circular shape is pretty, though. It matches the golden accents scattered about the room's limited palette, helping to tie everything together despite not being very cohesive style-wise.
Caine seems satisfied with looking at the bed, making no move to actually try it out. He takes in the red satin sheets, the fluffy pillows that look nearly as big as him, and simply hops down from the stairs to go admire a picture on the wall. Curious, Ragatha follows.
Everything in here besides the bed itself has a touch of the typical asymmetrical circus flair, which includes the myriad of ornate golden picture frames. They all look lopsided, but intentionally so, and the arrangements on each section of wall not covered by red curtains has a balance to it that makes it look random, but not too random.
More importantly, the pictures themselves feel noteworthy. Ragatha can't help the way her heart drops a bit when she realizes exactly where she recognizes some of these from.
"Wait." She moves closer to the array of hanging pictures, scanning every single one. "Aren't these…"
"Adventures!" Caine finishes, eyes gleaming with pride when he looks up at her. "And the good ones, too! Some of my finest work is being put on display here. Oh, my wonderful room program," he sighs wistfully with a hand against his heart. "You know me so well."
Adventures. It all goes back to the adventures. She recognizes this one that Caine is viewing, but can't recall much about it. A jungle exploration adventure, which probably ended in being hunted and/or maimed by whatever Caine thinks populates a rain forest. At least, that's her best guess. She usually blocks out the memory of adventures that end in bodily harm, so that would explain why she can only vaguely remember going on this one.
It looked nice, at least. Maybe that's what he means by it being some of his best work. She has half a mind to ask what he considers a good adventure versus a bad one, but before she can find the right words—
"So! Thoughts so far?" Kinger's head pokes out from around the canopy, glasses skewed slightly to reveal a single blue eye. "Any requests?"
Caine doesn't respond immediately. He hums in thought, admiring the snapshot of the jungle as if viewing art in a museum. (That's probably what this is for him, being completely honest— a grand showcase of old adventures that he took pride in that anyone can view, should they enter his room.) Clearing his throat, he spins around to Kinger, eyes practically glittering.
"Requests for what, Kinger my boy?"
Ragatha watches the man in question blink, then say, "You know! Anything you want removed, or replaced, or—"
"Replaced?" Caine presses a hand to his chest, eyes wide in mock offense. "I scoff at the mere notion! You won't have to change a single thing! As I expected, this—" he spreads his arms wide to the entire room. "Is PERFECT!"
Ragatha stares down at him in disbelief, mouth hanging open slightly. In all her years, not a single person has ever, ever had zero issues with their room. So, forgive her if she sounds a little stunned when she repeats, "Perfect?"
"Perfect!" Caine insists with a nod. "I can't imagine a room better suited for my refined tastes," he gloats, raising a hand to his chin.
Her disbelief fades into realization. He's being way too extra about this, which tells her he's hiding something. "You're sure?"
"Mmmyep!"
"Nothing needs changed?"
"Mmmnope!" The sparkle to his eyes somehow gets more intense.
"Not even the piano?"
The sparkle dies instantly. Gotcha.
"Well. That—" his eyes dart to the piano, pupils shrinking, before he snaps right back to that shallow cheerfulness. "It has a charm to it! Besides, who even plays the piano these days?" He scoffs. "It's much better suited as a set-piece. A set-piece that I will never touch. Stashed away in the corner where nobody can see it."
Ragatha raises an unimpressed brow. Debating on whether this is something to push or leave alone, she hears a noise from Kinger behind the bed.
"I found something!"
Why does he sound so muffled? Heading over, she realizes it's because he's somehow tangled himself up in one of the curtains against the wall. But in doing so, he's uncovered something once hidden in the corner that he's pointing at excitedly. A large, industrial switch, with the words ON above it and OFF below it, etched onto the metal frame in big bold lettering. It's currently set to ON, which is really interesting—
Wait, stop, one thing at a time. Untangling Kinger from the curtains, she helps him adjust the glasses from where they'd nearly fallen right off his head. He doesn't seem to care in the slightest, his attention solely on this new discovery. He keeps the curtain pulled back with one hand and looks to Ragatha.
"Would you like to do the honors?"
What? Her? "Shouldn't Caine be the one to—"
"NONSENSE!" Ragatha nearly elbows Caine in a panic. When did he get right next to her? "Go right ahead, my cotton-fiber cohort!"
Blinking rapidly as the shock wears off, she rubs at her elbow, uncertain. But, if he's insisting it's fine… she does want to see what that switch does. "O…kay, then."
Stepping forward, she looks to Kinger. He only smiles and nods for her to continue. "I told you we'd find a few easter eggs! First the spotlight, then the piano, now this. Don't worry, it shouldn't be anything dangerous. Probably just a light switch," he shrugs.
That does make her feel better. Less like she's about to, like, shut down the entire circus or something. Even if that happens, they can reverse it, just like last time! Probably.
With only a moment's hesitation, she reaches forward. It feels appropriate to use both hands for something as heavy-duty as this. Taking one last steadying breath, she ignores the brief burst of paranoia and what-ifs that flood her brain, and—
FLIP.
The switch slides heavily into the OFF position with a loud metal clank, and they're all instantly plunged into darkness. An electronic whir hums around them, lowering in pitch, like something is powering down.
"…Kinger?" She keeps her hands on the switch, terrified to let go.
"Present!" He stage-whispers, still right next to her. His face is briefly illuminated by the firefly, now nestled in the fur of his robe. Okay, so she didn't break anything. The realization makes her sag with relief, slumping over the switch.
"I think— ha ha—" she laughs, slightly giddy. "I think you were right. This really is just for the lights."
"…Aw, rats."
"What?"
"I thought it would be cooler than that." The firefly's next glow reveals a slightly petulant pout on his face.
"I mean," Ragatha shrugs. "It definitely felt like something important. But I guess—"
"Wait—" Kinger shushes her. Another brief flash of golden light shows his eyes are directed to the ceiling, one gloved hand pointing up. "Look!"
Brows furrowing, Ragatha follows his line of sight. And she stifles a gasp.
In the darkness, she can just barely make out the beginnings of lights. Small and flickering like stars in the empty void above, the first few that appear are vivid red, scattered all over the room, well out of their reach. As more appear, a new color joins the red: a soft yet vibrant blue. With each new light that pops into existence, they begin to flit about, creating small comet trails that show the exact patterns they follow: some go in circles, some in figure-eights, or draw some kind of shape, like a square or star. Others wander aimlessly, weaving in and out of the more organized lights.
"What a lovely light show," Kinger comments, voice filled with wistful awe.
Ragatha, meanwhile, is instantly brought back to a part of her memories that she'd prefer to never visit again: the escape adventure. Namely, their little trip with "Abel" to receive those (fake) administrator passes. She remembers the abstract landscape, but more relevant is what hovered above them in the sky. Little dots of light, floating around in ever-changing patterns, just like this.
"Hey," She turns to Caine, who is seemingly awestruck at the sight. "Looks like your room has a little more to it than we realized! I was wondering why it felt so empty in here."
When he doesn't respond, she cranes her neck back and admires the lights a while longer. It's incredibly easy to forget what she's doing in favor of watching the hypnotizing patterns formed by the trails of red and blue. And, at some point, she notices an odd detail.
The little dots, she realizes, are following specific patterns. Not just the shapes or circles, but behaviors that are seemingly defined by their color. The blue dots are steady and strong in their light, and they follow smooth, graceful paths, made much more visible by little comet trails.
The red dots are… hm. The best word she can find to describe them is "unstable." They flicker in and out like a weak flame that refuses to be smothered, and their flight patterns are entirely random, moving in harsh and unpredictable ways. Some bob in the air before darting in some odd direction, others orbit the blue dots and even poke at them, producing a little spark of yellow light where they make contact before hurrying away. They seem almost… alive. Or, at the very least, full of personality, like little miniature NPCs.
She mumbles this observation to Kinger, who nods along and seems to agree with her. "Now that you mention it…" In the dim neon light cast by the dancing orbs above, she sees his glove raise and trace an invisible line. "It's very insect-like. Specifically a more clumsy insect, like a beetle, or a…" He snaps his fingers, drawing a blank.
She does agree, watching them a bit longer. It's like how flies dart around a window, or a bee hovers above a flower. Intentional, but lacking grace.
Eventually her attention goes to the rest of the room, curious if anything else changed. She finds Caine still transfixed by the light show above, so she has to maneuver a bit to squeeze past him in the cramped corner. Taking a cursory glance around, she doesn't find anything obviously out of the ordinary. The shifting red and blue lights are slightly disorienting, and it does make the pictures on the wall look all warped and weird.
…Actually, they look a little too different. Have the pictures changed? Walking towards the wall to investigate, Kinger's voice sounds behind her.
"Ragatha! The floor!" He's keeping his volume at a whisper even though it's not necessary, so it takes a second for her to understand what he said.
She looks down, seeing nothing. Uh. Alright, then. Maybe she's standing on whatever was there? She raises her foot, but… nope.
And then she sets it down again. Suddenly, a small cluster of colorful shapes starburst out from where she made contact, spinning and fading back into the darkness only seconds after. Her mouth drops open. A childlike burst of excitement fills her chest. She has to do that again. Hoisting her dress slightly up to not trip, she hops from one foot to another, watching the colors and shapes burst out like fireworks.
This explains the glass-like floor. It's one massive screen display, and it's interactive! How cool is that?
Kinger laughs, equally enamored by the new discovery. "Let me try!" He stares down at the base of his avatar. As does Ragatha. If he can't walk like her, what happens when he—?
A massive burst of shapes emit from him, and they both watch in delight. The screen must be registering his shuffling as a constant flow of inputs, reacting in kind. Kinger drags himself back and forth, creating constant starbursts of brightly-colored shapes and lighting the bottom of his robe with chaotic, unorganized rainbow hues. Ragatha tries it out for herself, sliding her foot along the floor and giggling to herself when it has the same effect.
This is… fun! Really fun! She kind of wishes her room had something like this.
She supposes Caine was right on the money about his room being perfect. She turns to tell him as much, only to find he's moved from his original spot. It takes some looking to find him, now that everything is heavily obscured in the low, ever-shifting lighting, but she eventually spots the glint of white teeth across the room. He's back to that jungle picture.
The glee bubbling in her chest settles. It's hard to say why, but an uneasiness claws at her stomach as she heads over to him.
Looking up at the picture, she double-takes. She was right earlier— the photos did change. But what she's looking at now, is…
A normal picture. Not normal by circus standards. Normal by human standards. Again, can't really make out details in this environment, but she can tell it's an empty restaurant with tables covered in picnic-pattern cloths. She can also get the feeling that this isn't a 3D render, or an environment from an old adventure. Something about the quality of the picture is just too grainy, too imperfect, nothing like the sharp clarity of every other picture scattered about the circus.
The unease deepens. She… she would have to see it in better lighting, but this looks like something from the real world. What the hell?
She looks for other pictures. One is just to her left, and where a snapshot of the Candy Canyon Kingdom once sat is now a picture of… an office? It has to be an office. It has a bunch of filing cabinets, and a vending machine, and office chairs, and plain, undecorated walls. The exact kind of place she'd avoid like the plague in favor of her remote real estate job, localized entirely within the comfort of her own home.
What the hell?
The concern returns as easy as breathing. She looks down at Caine, his eyes mostly concealed under his teeth, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's looking at. The shifting colors above make it near impossible to tell anything based on his posture. The only thing to go off of is the silence. With Caine, silence is never a good sign.
He didn't say anything when she spoke to him earlier, she realizes, and she wants to smack herself for letting that slip past her awareness. She's supposed to be paying attention right now, not getting caught up in the first shiny toy that comes her way.
"Hey," she whispers, worried she might startle him with anything louder. When that gets no reaction, though, she leans over to see his face better, raising her voice a touch. "Hey."
Despite her best efforts, he still flinches away as if she just screamed in his ear. And when he finally looks up at her… oh boy. He's upset. Definitely upset.
"You okay?"
It feels stupid to even ask. But when Caine's eyes widen by a fraction, staring right through her, and he doesn't instantly go into his usual theatrics of brushing off whatever is bothering him, that's a better answer than she ever could have asked for. If he's so shaken up that he can't even pretend nothing is wrong, it's bad.
She's stupid. She's so stupid.
"Uh, alright!" Ragatha raises her hands placatingly, trying to ignore the panic actively rising in her. Not the time to freak out, there's an obvious solution here. "We- we can step outside for a bit, if you need a break?"
She takes a step backwards, towards the door. The resulting burst of color reflects in Caine's panicked gaze. He stiffens, instantly looking down to watch the colors fade out of view. He looks far too shocked at the sight, like it's the first time he's noticing that new quirk of the floor. Had he not noticed when he walked over here?
"It's— it's fine!" Ragatha blurts. She isn't sure what about the changes to the room are getting to him, as they all seem harmless enough— well, besides the pictures, those are creepy— but hopefully showing him that nothing in here is dangerous will calm him down enough to be reasoned with. She taps her foot again to make the same "They're just lights coming from the floor! See? You can try, too!"
Caine isn't swayed in the slightest. If anything, his posture tenses even more. Still, he looks down at himself. He takes a single, tiny, unbelievably hesitant step.
Just as she expected, shapes in all sorts of colors appear in response. But, unexpectedly, she can't help but notice something. The shapes aren't… shapes. They're all wonky, not resembling anything like the ones made by herself or Kinger.
Caine also notices. And the glitch that rips through his avatar is as loud and bright as it is alarming.
"Whoa! Caine, hey—" Ragatha steps towards him. A mistake, because he looks at the little burst of shapes from her footsteps and another glitch distorts him beyond recognition. Okay, no walking, nevermind. "Let's calm down, take a breath!"
He stumbles backwards, eyes unable to tear away from the myriad of abstract shapes each step produces, and he picks up his pace until it looks as if he's practically running away from the floor. His back slams into the steps leading to the bed and he scrambles up them, only stopping once he's reached the foot of the bed and sinks into the silky red fabric. It doesn't relax him in the slightest. He sits over the edge and stares at the floor like it might suddenly swallow him whole.
Ragatha is stuck where she's stood by the door. She doesn't want to freak him out, but just taking a step is apparently enough to send him into… whatever this is. But she needs to get him outside before he starts to really freak out. Right now, he's very obviously panicking, but he's keeping a lid on it. There's no telling what's going to make that lid fly off.
"Kinger? Can you distract him while I get the door?"
"Sure! Caine, you wanna meet someone? You've seen fireflies before, but this one is special! And did you know that, in some regions…"
The second Caine's eyes are off of the floor and drawn to Kinger, Ragatha makes a run for the door. Just like everything in the room, it's practically invisible thanks to the extremely low lighting, so she has to resort to feeling around in the dark. The first pass, she doesn't hit anything. Must have missed it, so she tries again, cursing herself for fumbling around like she always does when tensions are high.
That sentiment changes when she still doesn't graze anything on the second pass.
Or the third.
Or the fourth, or the—
"Where is this stupid door?!" She hisses to herself, practically patting down the wall at this point. No matter how much she tries, no matter how much of the wall she covers, she can't find it. Is she looking in the wrong place? She can't be. It was here. It has to still be here.
Another glitch from Caine sounds behind her, a burst of static and electronic screeching. This one, however, spreads. Just like what she witnessed from the chase yesterday. It spreads from Caine, to the floor, to the wall, revealing white grid patterns that flicker in and out, but hold steady enough for a few seconds.
Ragatha backs away from the wall, eye widening in confusion, then horror as she processes what she's seeing, now revealed by the wide stretch of an unbroken grid before her.
"Kinger?" She turns to them. Caine's glitching comes and goes, steadying and dying down. His attention is fully on her. From beside the bed, Kinger holds the firefly, illuminating his concerned gaze, as she chokes out: "The door is gone."
Kinger stands taller, concern morphing to alarm. "What? That can't be right."
No shit, she thinks, but forces down the frustration. "I can't find it! It's just— it's gone!"
"Alright, that's… strange." You think?! "But if push comes to shove, I can make another—"
"It's gone?"
Caine's voice comes out small, tight, barely restrained. Ragatha's blood runs cold. Please don't let this be another thing that pushes him closer to the edge, they're barely keeping him together as it is—
"Don't worry! We're, uh..." She looks to Kinger desperately, only to find he's already turned away to do something else. She's on her own here. Fuck. "We're gonna find it."
"Find it?" His voice rises an octave, thin and reedy. A glitch lights up the room and he's suddenly standing on the bed, expression bordering on manic. "You shouldn't have to find a door, it should just— ha— it should just be there."
"Right, but it's… um."
"It's what?" Caine demands, stepping towards the edge of the bed. "Did it grow legs and walk away?" He freezes, processing what he just said. "…Ha. That sounds like something that would be in my room, doesn't it? Ha ha!"
Ragatha winces. He's starting to lose it. "Caine—"
"Oh, you clever little program! You know me SO WELL! You—! You…" The buildup of energy reaches its peak, glitches heightening, until again, it stops. Caine's voice peters out into nothing. He takes in the room around him. Not in the smiling, detached manner he's been putting on ever since first setting foot in here. No longer just looking, but actually seeing everything.
And when it finally clicks for him…
Another switch flip.
In that moment, what little remained of Caine's stability completely snaps. He leaps off the bed with a static-laced gasp, no longer paying any mind to the floor and the odd shapes that basically backed him into a corner just moments ago. He closes the gap in record time, stumbling over to the door— or where the door should be— slamming into it and causing a shockwave of glitches to ripple across the wall.
Ragatha instinctively backs against the wardrobe to put space between her and the borderline deranged behavior on full display, panic tightening her chest and making it hard to breathe. Even as her body refuses to move, she knows that she needs to do something. She needs to calm him down, needs to distract him, but her mind is drawing a blank at the sight of him. There's no other word to describe his current state other than completely, utterly terrified. He does the same routine she did earlier, of dragging his hands against the wall to find any divot, but with far more frantic and jerky motions. Judging by the uptick in glitches, the jerkiness probably isn't voluntary.
She doesn't know what to do. The last time he got this unstable, he— she doesn't know what to do. She can only watch in wide-eyed and numb panic, frozen to the spot, as he goes from his frantic search for the door to beating his fists against the wall. Each blow hits hard, emitting a burst of glitches.
A particularly violent glitch spreads across the wall, the floor, and reaches the wardrobe she's backed against. The shock to her system is just enough to spur her into action.
"Kinger," her voice comes out in a wheeze, and she tries again. "Kinger—"
"I'm finding the switch!" He calls back to her, and she finally spots him huddled in the dark corner behind the canopy. "Just hang on!"
Just hang on. She— okay. She can do that.
She swallows some air, forcing herself to remember how to breathe. The knowledge that someone is trying to fix this is enough to anchor her in reality and help her breach the surface. She turns her back to the scene, pressing herself further against the wardrobe and sucking in another breath, shaky but much deeper, telling herself to shut it out, don't let it get to her. Just hang on. Just ignore it.
Ignore Caine's deafening glitches, ignore the god-awful noises that sound like a trapped dying animal, ignore the desperate beating and scratching and clawing, ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—
A mechanical click echoes in the room.
Just like that, the lights above blink out of existence. The paintings are back to normal, no longer haunting visages of the world she may never return to. And, turning around, she finds the spotlight is back on Caine, who is slumped against the wall in the midst of a particularly violent glitch. Once it passes, he raises his head, sees the door he's now leaning against. Freezes.
He doesn't waste another second in wrenching it open, scrambling to his feet and sprinting outside, only to slam right into an invisible boundary.
Shit, right, the line of sight thing. Ragatha hurries over to the doorway, allowing Caine to escape the room. A jolt of panic hits her when he keeps running after making it out the door, afraid he might try to take advantage of this moment to make as much distance as possible, but he beelines for the opposite wall and throws himself against it. His knees buckle, sending him sliding down to the floor, slightly curled in on himself and legs drawing close to his chest protectively. He stares numbly at the room, glitches still tearing through his avatar, constant and unrelenting.
Ragatha quickly rushes to his side, stopping only when he shrinks back from her. Okay, understood, he needs space. That's easy enough! She can do space.
But, now registering how his glitches are starting to affect the hallway around them— the hallway that others might happen to walk down— she has to do more than just giving him space. She has to help him calm down fast, before the glitching textures below her suddenly decide to disappear entirely. What can she do for him here? Talk? Be a distraction?
"Caine?"
No response. His eyes are glued to the room, stress lines surrounding pinprick pupils, bordering on becoming incomprehensible scribbles that denote complete dissociation. She really doesn't want to find out what could happen if he slips away entirely into the panic, so she tries to reach a hand towards him as a test. He shies away, pressing further against the door to his back.
Okay, good. He knows she's here, he's still somewhat aware, but he's definitely tunnel-visioned and isn't processing anything beyond movement. Swallowing down nausea, she tries again. "Can you hear me?"
Still nothing.
Dammit. Dammit, she has no idea what she's doing and has to suppress the urge to rip her own hair out. How is she supposed to help him? She doesn't know what he needs, let alone what's causing this to begin with. The door thing feels the easiest to decipher, but it points to issues that she never once considered in association with Caine. Claustrophobia, maybe? Why would an AI feel claustrophobic? What purpose would that serve? How would that even plant itself in his subconscious in the first place?
Whatever, not important. Shut up and stop thinking and just do something for once in your life.
"I… listen, I'm right here." Slowly, carefully, she sets herself on the ground a few feet away, thankfully not startling him any further. "You're alright. Whatever is going on, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
That does something. For the briefest moment, the glitching stops. Caine's eyes twitch in her direction. They go right back to staring at the open doorway immediately after, but she's taking that as a sign of progress, a sign that she's managing to do something right.
From the doorway, Kinger emerges. Ragatha's eye snaps to him, relief flooding her. He has to know a better way to handle this. He meets her gaze first, brow furrowed in worry, before surveying the rest of the scene. His expression shifts thoughtfully, before tracking Caine's line of sight to the open doorway behind him. Looking at it, then back at Caine's frozen state, he slowly reaches and shuts the door, keeping his eyes locked on the distressed AI for any reaction.
At first, there's nothing. Then, after a few seconds, as if the change in his environment was processed with a bit of delay, Caine's eyes flick from side to side. He scans the door, then Kinger, then the hallway, before finally noticing Ragatha next to him. He remains curled up, making no move to unfurl from the highly defensive position, but he's no longer in that panic-induced haze. Disoriented? Sure. Distressed? Definitely. But they can work with this.
Ragatha spends the next couple minutes coaxing him down from his panic. He may not exhibit traditional signs of distress like hyperventilating or crying, but the tremor in his shoulders and the constant glitches is more than enough of a tell. As her gentle reassurances and Kinger's steadying presence takes effect, the glitches begin to stabilize. First the hallway, then the door he's pressed against, then Caine himself, until nothing remains except the tiniest jerks or twitches that might not be going away for the time being. The shaking has only lessened slightly, much to her concern.
When enough time has passed, Kinger leans closer to Caine, keeping his voice soft. He looks more clear-headed than Ragatha has seen all day. "Can you tell us what happened?"
The question snaps Caine out of his thoughts. He meets Kinger's gentle gaze, his own lacking the usual carefully-crafted barriers of detachment and wackiness, revealing a raw stress underneath that is almost too jarring to look at. She's not surprised after what just happened, but it's still bizarre to see him so utterly drained. For someone as endlessly energetic as him, it feels wrong to be witnessing this.
In response to Kinger, he looks away and shakes his head.
"Caine."
The stern tone from Kinger has Caine crossing his arms and shutting his teeth in a pout.
"I'm serious. We can't help you if you don't talk to us. Whatever problems you have, I'm here— and Ragatha's here— to do what we can about them. We might not be able to fix them, but—"
Caine shakes his head much faster, much more frantically. He cracks his teeth open, revealing a haunted look shadowed in the shelter of his mouth. "Don't need fixing."
Ragatha's brows knit, confused. That's… an odd thing to get caught up on. Why does he look so scared at the thought of them wanting to help?
Kinger, for his part, rolls with the punches. "There's nothing wrong with letting someone help you, Caine."
His teeth narrow in blatant disagreement. A small glitch jerks at his arm and he's quick to grip it with the opposite hand, bunching the fabric in his fist.
Kinger watches him, gaze searching, until he sighs and leans back, rubbing at his temple. "Alright, well… I wanted to tell you one more thing about your room. It's the one place that acts as an exception to our rule on monitoring you."
The slight subject change seems to relax Caine, who listens in quiet unease as Kinger goes on.
"So long as you're inside your own room, nobody is required to keep an eye on you. It would be unreasonable to expect 24/7 surveillance, and frankly, I think it would be overkill. Having said that…" Kinger looks back to the unassuming door, eyes trailing up to Caine's picture on the wall. "I know you insisted otherwise, but I think your room is in need of a few renovations."
Caine hums at that. It's unclear if it's a hum of agreement, or acknowledgment, or something else—
"I don't think so."
Oh, so it was disagreement.
Ragatha and Kinger turn to him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious," she blurts without thinking.
Caine sits up taller, arms crossed over his chest. "Oh, but I am!" He goes to stand, and Ragatha darts out an arm when he looks close to stumbling, but he manages to get up from the floor without issue. "Perhaps I spoke a bit too soon, but I maintain that, at the time, I had absolutely NO issues with the room as it was! So long as the lights stay on, I think this will be the PERFECT place to unwind."
She can… kind of follow his logic? But the obvious answer is still staring her in the face, that they can just make him a better room without the weird baggage and the missing door that sent him into a spiral. Matter of fact— "What if the door disappears again?"
Caine waves his hand. "Pshh! Hardly a problem. I will simply…" He raises a finger, then boops her on the nose. "NOT use the door!"
She rubs a hand over her face, scrunching her nose. "Huh?"
"In fact!" He spins on his heel to Kinger. "How do you feel about removing it entirely? I quite prefer an open concept floor plan, anyways."
Kinger shares a look with Ragatha, just as confused by this. "You realize you won't have any privacy, right?"
"Privacy, shmivacy. I'm an open book!"
He's completely serious about this. Rather than letting them fix the room and make it something more comfortable, he's just going to… what? Ignore them? Pretend they don't exist? Rid himself of basic privacy instead of letting them get a door that won't disappear at random?
"I mean," Ragatha begins slowly. "If you're sure?"
"Sure as ever! Now, I think we can leave that for later. Was there anything else on today's agenda?" Caine bounces on his heels, looking between the two humans expectantly.
It's insane. Truly, truly insane. Just minutes ago, she was talking him down from what she can only assume was a full-blown panic attack. A panic attack induced by the very room he's insisting doesn't need to be fixed, despite clearly taking issue with practically everything about it. Not a single thing in there sparked his interest, save for the piano— completely unplayable, especially if he's going through with removing the door that would at least block some of the noise— and the framed pictures of adventures that nobody else has any interest in thinking about. God, that's not even getting into the real photos that took their place when the lights were off. She has no idea what to make of that.
Just like everything else with Caine. One confusing development after another, always raising more questions than answers.
"Well," Kinger starts. "I did agree to meet Gangle at my fort after we had the tour, but—"
"PERFECT!" Caine leaps into action, marching down the hall a few paces, puffing out his chest and pointing ahead. "Lead the way!"
…He sighs, clearly too worn-down to argue any further, and heads down the hallway. Ragatha does the same, keeping her pace to match Caine's much springier and carefree trot.
She's not letting this go. Caine is bound and determined to leave everything that just happened completely unaddressed, just like every other instance of his increasingly-concerning behavior. She could let it go before now, when the concerning behavior was limited to smaller, contained bursts of emotion, but there's no way she's forgetting that. She needs some time to process it herself— on top of everything else that happened just last night with the computer, and with Bubble— before she can figure out a good angle to tackle this from.
Though, honestly? She's starting to worry that there is no good angle. Trying to come up with one feels like trying to untangle the world's most stubborn ball of jewelry, where every knot or loop she manages to unwind just reveals another three further down the line and she starts losing hope that there will ever be an end to it. Feels easier to just… leave it alone and ignore it.
But for obvious reasons, she's not taking the easy route. She's never afforded that for herself. It's been far too easy to write Caine off as a lost cause. Guilt gnaws at her knowing that's exactly what she's done for years now, viewing him as nothing more than a fixture of the circus and never having the time nor energy to look deeper into the things he does.
And… well. Look where that blissful ignorance got her. Years upon years of being around him but never interacting, never learning about him beyond the surface level observations, all culminating in a complete and total loss on how to just be around him as if it's their first day meeting.
It might as well be. She never could have imagined the same Caine she thought she knew all these years in the state she just witnessed, fearful and panicked and cornered. It was like seeing a completely different person underneath the ringmaster facade, one that's much more human than she anticipated.
She has to keep trying. For reasons she can't entirely put into words, she feels obligated to. Like she owes it, to whoever that person behind the persona may be.