S a l e t é I I

XII - Oreilles - Huit

Polina had been tucked into Cassia's blazer whilst she'd been working on her notes, her face poking out from where she was held, ensuring that she was both safe and comfortable. Every now and then, Cassia would touch her hair, or stroke her face softly, keen to give her some affection.

She may have been a doll, but Cassia loved her all the same.

As she'd been considering the questions she'd written down, yet more things seemed to click in her mind, and she'd come to accept that Monet's interpretation of what she'd told her must have been largely correct. Lots of little details seemed to match up with it; how had Esmund known that she liked black and white things? Her room, her clothes, it was all done in colours she liked. If he'd made her, he would have known that. If she'd really been adopted, then wouldn't it have all been more... Complicated? Wouldn't more people have been involved? Like... Carers, or others like that?

If she'd been made, then... Did that mean things had been decided for her? Her taste in clothes? Her favourite colours? Her... Personality...?

It was a worrying thought, and yet... She didn't get the impression that it was the case. She'd been different from the others, when it came to all those things, and she had her own interests that didn't align with Adeline's all of the time, like her intrigue towards poetry.

She certainly didn't align personality wise - she was shy, whilst Adeline was very outgoing. She felt as if... She felt as if she'd made her own way through things. Her arrival at Deering House may have been set in stone, but from there she was sure that she'd navigated life via her own choices. She'd been curious, and she'd learned a lot of things. It hadn't just been a part of her, he'd allowed her to learn at a steady pace, and...

Thinking was hard.

She rubbed at her face, and at her eyes, but even then, a new thought reached her. What did she look like...? In the mirror? What was her reflection like? Would she look different, being a Jouet? She would have had to. Not knowing what details might have been present on her own face was... It was weird.

She moved her hand to her neck, brushing her fingertips over it, up and down, and there it was - she could feel a line there, marking the connection between her head and her body, one more indicator that she was indeed artificial in nature. She'd seen a similar one on Monet, and now she'd confirmed that she had it too.

Monet was so calm, so collected... She wished she could have been like her, even if it was just for now.

The sounds of the others continued to provide little glimmers of life to the warehouse. Klavdiya and Uliana were still in high spirits after the haul the latter girl had helped to bring home, even if Klavdiya wasn't at all thrilled with how Uliana had acquired it, and they were still messing with the flame present before them, interacting with it via pieces of wood that would inevitably end up within it.

Taya wasn't too far away, up on one of the containers again, where she'd returned to drawing - this time on the side of one of the taller ones, which she could reach now that she was atop the lower one beside it. She was kneeling, her attention fixed on her current artwork.

Zisel must have been in her side room, and Monet must have been upstairs. What did Monet do? When she wasn't with the others, or out somewhere?

Thinking about questions regarding her life was one thing, but Cassia could think of countless more for her current situation. Where was she? What was Lower Merveille?

Were they underground? Adeline had mentioned that the city went down, as well as up, to save space...

How big was the place? Was it dangerous? How long would it take to cross from one side of the district to the other? Why was it seemingly so run down? Were all the places down here like their warehouse, old and worn?

At least these things would become clear, in time. They had to, or else she wasn't going to get anywhere or make any progress, and that was simply not going to happen. As a result, she tried not to let it all get to her, but it was difficult.

Maybe if she was somewhere a bit more comfortable, she'd be able to focus more...?

She got up, once again returning to the stairs, making her way to the walkway above. This time, however, she entered the door at the top, closing it behind her, before she began to settle on one of the blanketed mattresses within.

That was a bit better. If only there were some cushions, or some pillows...

Looking around, at the drawings that covered the walls of the room, all of them coming together to form some kind of crayon mural, she noticed little things she hadn't before. Some of it was familiar - she recognised one drawing featuring the drum they used to contain their fire, complete with the girls sat around it, Monet in her red dress, Klavdiya with her one leg, and Zisel with her face partially obscured. The other two were evidently Taya and Uliana, and everyone - except Monet - was smiling.

Other drawings seemed to depict them all playing together, or doing various other things like shopping, or more surreal stuff. One picture featured them all sat on each other's shoulders, forming a mighty totem, whilst another featured them presumably flying, arms extended.

All of the drawings were basic at best, and it was that childish touch that made Cassia rather fond of them.

She laid down as she continued to look around at them, resting her book flat against her as she did so, and she took Polina out, holding her properly now. She was still in good shape, and still her pretty little self. Cassia began to stroke her hair.

"Don't worry. We'll work things out. We're still together, right? We're always fine when we're together."

Polina was quiet, of course. She didn't have to speak, as the little, ever present smile on her face was comforting all the same.

It was a miracle that she was with her. Something familiar was just...

Cassia renewed that hug.

She didn't feel tired, or weary in any way, and yet laying down and just letting things go as best she could for a while was still pleasant. Or, at least, as pleasant as it could be. Monet had mentioned a sleep function, or something, hadn't she...? Did that mean that she wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon? Was sleep off the table...? It was just another bizarre thought to add to her increasingly huge list of bizarre thoughts.

Even if she couldn't just fall asleep, it was best to take things easy now and then. The less she moved around, the further her Honey would go. Was that how it worked...? Monet had said it was similar to people, and nutrition... If someone went for a long run, they'd want a drink afterwards. So, if she was active a lot, would she need more Honey? It made sense.

Well, it made some kind of sense. She felt as if her concept of sense had gone out the window hours ago, and everything was so confusing now because she was essentially rebuilding it. It was like she'd had a jigsaw, only now she'd been shown that it was put together entirely wrong, and now she had to rearrange the pieces so that they fit properly - each piece required a new angle, a new kind of assessment...

She moved onto her side, holding Polina close, making sure that her book was tidy beside her. She had time. As long as she got home, that was what mattered. Yes, it would have been nice to just magically get back there within a day or two - very, very nice - but if it took longer, days, maybe a week or two, then... That was how things would have to be. All of the worry, all of the sadness, it would all go away once she got back. Things would be better. A day, a week, it would be the same, joyous occasion either way.

She hoped that everyone back home was okay.

She slipped into a restful state, holding those warmer thoughts as closely as she held Polina, using them to shield herself from the worries that still worked to scratch their way into the forefront of her mind. Once she'd rested, she could continue with her questions, and her writing, and...

Just a quick rest first...