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Baby Star Candy
d77784
"Holiday isn't a breaker. He isn't human. He's a tear- a hole in reality that desperately wants to be filled. And he would have eventually eaten everyone and everything here in the desperate attempt to do so."
"Wha- Can't we do something then?"
"Either Jean there, another tear, eats him, or one of us, er... you or.... Sully, was? One of you two would have to sacrifice themselves to kill the bastard."
That shocks them both to silence, minds trying to process information that they can't quite understand or believe. You take a deep breath before finally letting Cally go dormant once again, but before she's completely gone, in that half-state where both you and she are separate but not, you offer her a gentle smile and words would seem to catch her off guard.
"Hey, Cally? Maybe this way you got to be yourself and the better person, after all."
"... Maybe, Linda. Maybe. Stay beautiful~"
The ghostly Cally departs, leaving you once again your normal self, dressed in normal clothing. You stretch some of the kinks out of your body, some of those dance move Cally loved you were sure involved movements that resulted in your limbs bending in way that didn't seem feasible. Still, you didn't mind the exercise at all. It was certainly interesting. The end results though...
"Hey Elizabeth? You there?"
"Of course, Mother."
"Whatever it is you got planned, I'd suggest getting it ready. Holiday here is about to be dealt with."
"I... see... We will be ready."
"We? You know what, we can talk about that another time. For now, do you think you could give me your sight? I need to test something. Hopefully it'll turn out alright."
"As you wish, Angel... It is done."
A redundant statement, your eyes fill with the sight of those glowing threads, although you can tell that the power is only a piece of your daughter's sight. She's chosen to limit you somewhat once again. Why would she do tha-
You freeze in shock as your gaze moves over the tears. Or rather, where your normal sight can barely make out their physical forms. What you see with Elizabeth's sight, however, is far from what you expected. Instead of there simply being nothing around them, like you, threads weave and vibrate against their existences, but as they move away, the threads appear diminished. Less, somehow, then they were before. Glittering sparkles of reality seem to bleed off each one thread that even passes close to the tears, disappearing into the dark emptiness that the they represent, and just from watching, seeing, understanding, you feel something wrench in your gut.
Wrong. All tears are... wrong. In every sense of the word, they are wrong. They should not be. Should never have been.
You quickly separate the emotion from yourself, and realize just as quickly from feeling similar things recently that the emotions you'd just felt were Elizabeth's. Likely an unintentional bleed through thanks to you using her sight. It was likely why you felt such as sense of security about yourself when you'd viewed yourself in a mirror the first time you'd done this. Still, even by recognizing what's going on and trying to ignore it, some of it bleeds through. Even Jean, who you've chosen to trust, at least for now, feels so wrong every time he passes into your vision.
"Ms. McCallahan? Are you quite prepared?"
"Uh... yes. right. Prepared. Uh... do your thing, I guess..."
You watch, and begin to reach out with your senses, as Jean pulls off a glove in semblance of some aristocrat from the olden days, before his smile widens into something that can only be described as hungry. The view your borrowed sight provides suddenly warps as Jean goes active, threads that were once simply being corroded away suddenly getting pulled into him, the light of reality simply disappearing into a ever growing, ever gaping maw of sheer nothing. Then he lays his hands on his "brother" and it becomes impossible to describe. Nothing meets nothing, black hole meets black hole, and two unstoppable forces collide. And Jean, with his advantage, proves the stronger. Holiday, as if for the first time, begins to shed light, and you quickly reach forwards, intent on grabbing at what you hope are the threads he just consumed. The threads explode outwards before being sucked back in by Jean, but your grasp holds one, a single thread, pulsing once again with life, if a little worn around the edges. The woman who'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Part of you remembers her, remember things about her you can't have known. Her life is splayed out before you like a blanket, and you find you can see each event, each choice, each action that touched her existence. And then the pull of Jean's hunger snatches it from your grasp, like a fish that had wiggle free and followed the river's flow. You snarl in defiance, but by then, it's too late to do anything. You can only watch as it disappears into the tear in front of you, his nothing growing larger and more insistent. But something else catches your attention and steals your anger. As Holiday's nothing disintegrates, and more threads pull free, you glimpse something you remember, and feel something you hadn't thought to feel here, of all places.
Raw Reality.
You react faster than you imagined you could, reaching for it, hoping to grab hold, but Jean seems to be targeting it specifically. His hunger grabs hold and doesn't let go, and you find yourself having to release your hold on it or be dragged into the nothing. Still, the amount of Raw Reality inside Holiday was at least four times the amount you used when changing reality to kill off Marc.
Within moments, after that raw reality disappears into Jean's form, he goes inactive, that consuming of threads going with him. Now, he only nibbles at the threads around him once again. You collapse onto your knees after that, feeling suddenly tired, but you force yourself to stay awake. There are things you need to check on.
"Elizabeth?"
"The guests are fine. As are the remaining breakers. They are all being transported somewhere else. Only you and the tear remain... he is stronger, Angel."
"I know... I know..."
Elizabeth's sight leaves you, perhaps by her own choice, to spare you the horror she sees, and you turn you gaze on the tear. Even without her sight, you can feel his wrongness stronger than before as he replaces the glove on his hand, glancing around him as he does.
"And so ends the story of Holiday. Or the not story, as the case may be. Ms McCallahan? Is something wrong?"
You hesitate, questions flitting through your mind faster than you can voice them. You steady yourself with a calm, deep breath before letting your thoughts settle.
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