Characters: Marnie and Emma (played by orie)
Content Warnings: None
Location: Convenience store The Records
The world has ended, and everyone not magical has disappeared. Everyone magical has been sent into a purgatory of dream bubbles. Emma's static magic means she's stuck in a convenience store forever, but her final action before the world ended was to drag Marnie along with her, binding her to become her familiar. They are now stuck together in limbo. Also Marnie's familiar-status gave her cat ears, somehow.
Marnie and Emma try to soothe a bit of the misery and boredom that comes with being stuck in purgatory forever.
Emma waved as Clive’s party took their respective pouches, presumably leaving to go onto the next bubble. She gives a polite smile and waits for them all to exit this silly magi adjacent 7/11.
Once they do, she puts her hand down and sighs a little. Interacting with people is hard! After being alone together for so long, it was hard to get back into the swing of things.
She lightly places both hands on the counter in front of her. Looks out toward the shelves.
“…Sorry about that.”
Marnie wonders whether it was better when the only things in her world were Emma and the hellish shop in which they inhabited.
She doesn’t…like the way other Magis look at her. Emma isn’t much better, but…at least Emma knew her before. Emma understands her. No one else does. It’s awful. Being so strictly bound to her like this is a fate worse than death.
The walls of their shop are boring and nondescript. There’s no patterns for Marnie to pick out. No respite from a home that’s only a home in the part of her mind that keeps her bound here.
“……it’s an improvement,” she grumbles.
Even if she loves(?) Marnie with all her heart, being stuck with her in a purgatory 7/11 is. Sort of a kind of hell.
Not that Marnie was the problem mind you! Emma was glad she was here (considering the alternative), but again. Ever-present and unchanging boring ass 7/11.
She already had enough of that by being herself. Now that the place they really had no choice but to call home was the same, it was… something. Agonizing might be a good word for it. Close, to it maybe.
Emma lets her torso lie on top of counter, face down. She groans a little mixed with a sigh, but its muffled since her face is directly against the counter. Emma lays there for a few more seconds before picking herself up.
“…I could move some of the stuff in the back up here so I don’t have to spend so much time searching?” (^^;) It’d probably be more convenient in the long-run to have all the other pouches she’d need to hand out close by as well.
Marnie is used to all her living spaces being sparkly and decorated. Being here, somewhere where she can’t change her surroundings no matter how hard she tries…it’d wear anyone down. And Marnie is just a girl. Simple as that.
“You haven’t done that yet?” She doesn’t really keep track. The one thing she properly keeps track of is the things Emma is proud of. Mostly so she can destroy them. Try and force Emma to make something new. Something interesting with the endless generic products they carry.
And well. Marnie is just a Catgirl now.
“…No…?” (^^;;)
Emma plays fast and lose with how she arranges things. She figured just making sure the shelf stuff was stocked would be the most important!!
“I usually just take directly from there and put them out on the shelves, I didn’t really think keeping anything under the counter here would be worthwhile…” (^^;)
“…………”
Marnie’s tail swishes idly as she slowly walks around the store. A few of the products stocked on the lower shelves fall to the ground.
“..you’re an idiot.”
(^^;)
Emma had long forgone asking Marnie to Not knock things down in avertedly or otherwise. Hopefully no new groups of Magi would be stopping by for a bit, so she could get those later.
She couldn’t deny that saying outloud like this did make her actions seem a bit silly.
“…maybe so!!” Emma quickly steps into and out of the back area, now dragging a box of miscellaneous items and pushing it near the counter to eventually be sorted through.
Eventually, all the aisles in the store lead back to the counter. So there she is again. Climbing onto the counter, lying down against it, pressing her cheek against the surface and watching Emma go about her work.
“…maybe so,” she mimics with a huff.
A pause.
“…say something interesting.”
Emma crouches down a bit to reach into the box, examining what she pulls out and dictating a place for it beneath the counter once identified. She looks up slightly as Marnie addresses her.
“Uh, um! I don’t- that’s not really- don’t have anything in mind- uh-”
She is floundering. Emma Miller is not the kind of person who thinks well on her feet.
….of course.
Marnie lets out a huff. She stretches out against the counter, reaching far enough, until her hand touches something.
Swiftly, she knocks it to the ground.
Marnie knocks over that silver bell Emma had positioned on the counter to signal when she was needed.
Even if she spent a lot of time stocking shelves and setting up displays, she didn’t have much of a reason to stand at attention at all times. (Being in a timeless purgatory where anyone can come in at anytime with potentially very long stretches between such does to you).
She winces a bit as the bell semi-rings and clamps on its own sound from the impact.
Emma stands back up, and walks over to the fallen bell, picking it up. The counter isn’t super tall, so it’s not broken, but there is a noticeable dent in it now.
She places the bell back on the counter, a little further away than where Marnie had knocked it over previously.
She flips over. Stares at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling instead. It’s not worth doing the same manoeuvre twice, because then it gets boring, like everything else here.
Silence. She isn’t sure for how long. It could’ve been a minute. It could’ve been thirty. Maybe even an hour. She’s not sure anymore.
“….for what it’s worth……thanks, I guess.”
Time bleeds on and within itself here. There’s not much point in keeping track anymore. When Marnie does break the silence though, Emma glances up again from her crouched position.
“Of course!” (^^) She doesn’t like the way it comes out of her mouth when she says it.
“I thought it’d be a quick in and out but, then some other stuff fell over and I had to make sure things didn’t break and-” Rambling.
“…I didn’t think I’d take so long so, sorry again.” (^^;)
“………he called me an animal,” she says, after yet another long pause. She stretches a little more, but knocks nothing down this time.
“…another one…a blonde one…said, and I quote..” Her voice grows slightly deeper. A sad impression. “Should I stab it.”
She’s already apologized so much about their current circumstances, enough for Marnie to tell her to stop doing it so much, but it never felt like enough. Could never properly convey how she felt no matter how often
Marnie was always the kind to not take shit from anyone, so it makes sense for her to attack whoever said that. ||The time where she had to hold her back from a catcaller when they were walking together plays in the back of her mind.||
Emma keeps her eyes back on the box infront of her.
“I’m sorry they treated you like that Mar-nie.” Her tone is less exaggerated, more somber. She accidentally emphasizes the second syllable to avoid another slip up. Fuck.
“I… still don’t know why our link made you a,” a sigh. “…catgirl.” She says a little quieter. Something so silly within something so miserable.
Again with the slip-up. At least Emma’s trying to use her name again. The first few times after it happened, she never used it. Afraid to slip up again, maybe.
If Marnie were just a tiny bit more different, she’d give up and tell her to just use the damn nickname already. She doesn’t.
There’s a dry, cynical laugh. Of course she doesn’t. Why would she?
“I wish it’d made me a monster instead.”
To give her credit, there was less of a reason for her to address Marnie by name when it had been just the two of them for ages. That’s how she rationalized it anyway.
Even if Marnie gave her the okay, she’d never bring herself to do it. That word wasn’t hers anymore.
Emma laughs a little. Also dry. Never cynical.
“What kind of monster?”
“…..isn’t that up to you?”
Quiet. Thinking. Part of her..curse is that she can’t be as creative as she used to be. Not anymore. She usually deflects by leaving all up to Emma, but…
“….I don’t know. A monster. One that could rip you to shreds.”
“Ah… yeah I guess…” Though she’s still not sure why Marnie got catgirl-ed of all things instead of leaving her as is. Sure, Marnie could sometimes be described as… catty, but it was still a weird thing for this universe to cement.
Upon the prospect of being torn to shreds, Emma weirdly enough isn’t perturbed by the threat (probably because she’s gotten so many of them and knows by now that they don’t carry as much weight as they used to).
She’s feeling a bit bold today, though.
“…Would you? If you had the chance I mean.” Her voice doesn’t carry any particular tone of contempt or trying to rile marnie up or anything. This is just an attempt to continue the conversation instead of awkwardly letting it fizzle out like she typically does. She continues sorting objects beneath the counter.
Maybe it’s the visit from the other Magis that made Emma feel a little more bold than usual. She wouldn’t know. But she feels it, only a little, even before Emma asks the question.
And then, she does, and Marnie pauses.
Would she? She appreciates the different energy, the different conversation, but…she doesn’t want to think about it.
Marnie rolls over again. This new form is unfamiliar at best and uncomfortable at worst, but she’s agile and flexible like never before, now. Enough to let her bend her elbows and pounce toward Emma, swiftly pinning her to the ground underneath the counter.
“Would I?” Her ears flick forward and back. A vague sign of interest. “You tell me.”
The object that was previously in Emma’s hand falls perfectly back into the box, and she emits a small huff/grunt as she makes impact with the ground, briefly closing her eyes before opening them again to see Marnie.
A knee jerk reaction is to say ‘I don’t know’ and shut conversation down. Emma’s eyes look directly at Marnie’s for a second, almost looking for something.
…They can’t keep this volley up forever.
||She can feel her mind try to shift the gravity of the scene, placing her back against the wall of the Morning Glory Cafe, trapped. How the bruise left on her neck was the most distinct she’d felt in ages. Maybe potential mutilation didn’t seem so bad in that regard.||
“…I’d hope not.” Her expression reads as that typical ‘sorry for existing’ manner, but her tone lacks the apologetic quality. Her eyes glance away slightly.
“…If you felt like you had a good enough reason, you would. I think.”
She feels her head get a bit foggy.
They can’t. They really can’t. It’s an endless back and forth, with no winner in sight. No finish line. Only Marnie and Emma forever until some outside source releases them.
And maybe that day will never come, and maybe some day Marnie will just give up and let herself go entirely on autopilot. Stop speaking to customers. Cuddle up next to Emma during her breaks. Reply idly to idle conversation.
But today is still not the day.
“…I probably would. If I could.” A gentle admission. Or a reminder, maybe. Her grip on Emma’s wrists lessens, and she lowers herself to rest against Emma’s neck. A deep, rumbling purr emanates from her chest.
Gratitude in the midst of all her violence, in the only way that doesn’t feel like scratching her claws against a porcelain plate.
“..you know I can’t.”
There is no real happiness for them anymore. Not like this. The day Emma made her wish was the first day of the rest of her life. She had set them on a collision course for misery with no hope in sight.
Everything from that point on led to this moment. This one, long, continuous, monotonous, agonizing moment that would never come to an end.
Monotony dulls whatever it touches. This neverending mundanity. She hates the way she can see how it’s muted Marnie.
“…Yeah.”
She takes a deep breath in. And out. Closes her eyes. Feels the weight of the bracelet on her wrist.
“I know.”
Marnie’s collar is cold against Emma’s neck. The charms in it jingle gently when she shifts her position.
“I know you do,” repetition, again and again. A routine for their neverending mundanity.
The purrs are low and not quite cat-like. Another reminder of her new monstrosity.
She hates this. From the very bottom of her heart, she does.
“…you should take a break with me. For a little bit.” She doesn’t let go of her.
It’s weird. The first time Emma saw those signature charms of Marnie’s it instilled her with such a sense of dread and fear. And now, those feelings are still there but, different somehow.
If she were able, capable of feeling in it’s purest form, to not have her emotions molded and melded to fit the container she’s trapped in, she’d hate this from the bottom of her heart too.
Emma thinks for a second. Visits were few and far between for the most part anyways. And breaks are important.
And she’s tired from the past few exchanges away.
It takes more effort than she’d like to stave off her typical chipper but pleading tone.
“…okay.” She doesn’t move. Her body relaxes a bit in Marnie’s grasp.
“Good.”
She can’t express her gratitude or love for those small moments in which Emma does things for her. Because they’ll always be overshadowed by what Emma made of her. What she did instead of allowing Marnie to let go.
What she can do is lie on top of her like this and rumble against her chest. Force Emma to rest even if there’s no way to properly rest in a place like this. But she can hold her here. Like this. Pretend her gratitude is only animalistic and that their bond doesn’t force her to love Emma enough to do this, enough to lie here with her as long as it takes.
Her cheek finds itself pressed against Emma’s. She doesn’t fight it.
“Good job. I’m not letting you go.”
There’s no options left for them here.
She can say it a thousand different ways a thousand different times, but it’ll all equate to the same thing.
What they have isn’t real. Not completely. But it’s the only thing they have.
Paradoxical purgatory.
“…’mkay.”
Emma tilts her head toward Marnie’s cheek. More warmth against the coolness of the collar.
Her eyes are still closed. A vague smile tugs at her lips.
‘…this sucks,’ a part of her thinks.
“…sorry about all this.” is what she says instead. It comes out lazy and quiet. Tired.
She knows the words have long since lost their meaning. Unfortunately it’s the only phrase bouncing around in that head of hers.
She knows it’s real, and it can’t ever be real. Even if Marnie was capable of loving and being in love with someone…she knows that never in a million years would it have been Emma. They’re too different. Emma lacks the ambition and drive Marnie usually loves.
But this is the only thing she has now, beneath the vast expanse of magical nothingness. So she takes it, like she always has.
Her eyes remain keenly open as if maybe if she watches hard enough, Emma will flicker back into someone she properly loves. It doesn’t happen. An apology happens instead.
“..fucking told you not to apologise.” Even lazier. It’s a routine. Sorry, don’t say sorry, sorry, sorry. It lacks the poison the phrase carried the first few times.
She wraps her arms around Emma, rolls against the ground, finds herself against the counter with Emma on top of her now. Still, she doesn’t let go.
Emma hums in response.
Emma, as she is, is the textbook definition of a hopeless romantic in books and tv shows. Polite. Meek. Kind. Waiting for someone to reciprocate the kindness to her that she’s shown the world.
Marnie is not that person.
Marnie is not the slow descent into love, the lull into warmth and joy. She is turbulent. Abrasive.
And it’s because of her that Marnie’s version of love is being ironed out. Smoothed to fit someone else’s narrative.
Unfortunately, that is what makes sense to everyone but them. If it ought to be true, then it is.
‘…right.’ is what she thinks she adds on outloud. In actuality though, Emma’s eyes remain closed, mouth unopened. Her breaths are low and steady.
Emma Miller has fallen asleep.