Deemo - Lacrimosa

[Chapter 2] - Rainy Memory

"Deemo! Could you play me this song! Please~" Sitting on top of a pile of antique books, a diminutive child with chestnut locks, charcoal hands and pudgy cheeks, signalled her friend to come over. On her lap was a beefy book which contained numerous musical notes clumped together. Alice flicked through the many tattered pages to locate a specific song, however failed when she accidently dropped the book due to its immense weight. A thud so great, it lifted the wooden planks on the floor. "Ahh, D-Deemo, I dropped your book!" Fumbling towards the sepia chronicle, hazel orbs scanned the outer condition until they widened in horror at a big dent on the corner. Her fingers tried to forcefully straighten the creases and bend back the dented corners. A few cuss words were heard her and there: 'butter fingers!'. It was a futile option to hide the damage.

Reluctantly ambling towards her, a sooty silhouette figure picked up the book and examined the contents closely. Concerned more about whenever the book had injured the little girl, Deemo paused- too look at Alice- and resumed his search when she nodded in answer if she was alright. It seemed that Deemo wasn't interested in the cover condition, but rather the interior of the book. With no features excluding white button eyes and a bow tie, Deemo's skeletal digits hovered over the pages, examining. Conversations were quite minimal.

"I'm really sorry, Deemo." Muttered the brunette with a apologetic expression.
If Deemo had a mouth, he would of reassured her that it was okay, but unfortunately he was forced to gesture his thoughts instead.

Patting her back gently in an attempt to comfort, Deemo bent his stick-like legs and placed himself on another bundle of books. It wasn't just the books that were antiques, but rather, the whole room was simply unique and perhaps classical looking. With more ancient novels stacked loosely on mahogany shelves, it became a difficulty to spot a specific book you were searching for. Each individual stack of musical notes had an original cover; no two books were the same visually, nor internally. Some had leather coatings, others had engraved titles, a vast majority had bronze lockets and edges, a few had glistening gems which twinkled like stars. Such a variety made going into the library like entering a wonderland of knowledge, or maybe an bejewelling adventure. A crooked ladder with unnoticeable chips had been used often by Alice to rummage the books higher up the shelf. Any gaps on the wooden panes were either due to Deemo being incapable of returning an item to its original station, or Alice being too lazy to use the ladder again, perhaps out of fear that the extra weight of the book could potentially snap the ladder; predominantly, it was more likely to be both reasons. Overall, despite the immense sheet of dust, the room was basically a historical utopia! Furthermore, the size of the room was no laughing matter, it was enormous, yet in theses elegant castle walls, entangled with luscious evergreen vines, there wasn't just 1 room, but multiple rooms. How on earth could Deemo afford such a luxurious living? He doesn't work, nor does he have a family, although the petite girl wasn't entirely sure...

She wasn't entirely sure about herself either.

With no record of her original identity, Alice was melancholically confused. Falling, from what seemed like a wooden gateway in the tea-stained sky, head first, Alice had unconsciously written her name in a musical allegory of tragedy. As a result, all memorable trinkets shattered and scattered into naught- not even the first letter of her name could be remembered. This downwards spiral would of been the end of a beginning until something interfered.

Impacting her descend were the same obsidian, skeletal, yet delicate, hands which continues to embrace her up until this day: Deemo. Catching her figure and cradling the arrival, light seeped through the gaps of her eyelids and Alice's first memory, carved onto a clean slate, were those alarmed button eyes staring into hers: no pupils, just scribbled circles of white which widened in surprise, like something popped out of a cartoon. Both muted, only deafening silence filled the space between them. Knowing what she knew now, if she were to relive the scenario again, perhaps she would of consoled the being in front of the brunette: after all, there was definitely horror smeared across Deemo's face at that moment in time. Yet it wasn't just Deemo that was abhorrently terrified, Alice was just as fearful as well. Both were analysing each other to detect any threat from the new species in front of themselves. So different yet so strangely familiar.

Remarkably, it was Deemo that made the first move to break that awkward barrier between them. Cautiously stretching his lanky limbs yet bending down to be at a suitable height, (not too small yet not too overwhelming) the charcoaled entity held out its hand, awaiting for approval. If heard hard enough, you could hear the pounding of his chest. Deemo's trembling appendages exposed his anxious emotions. No matter how much concentration was secreted, it could not contain his fright. It was so unusual. These pillars of stone only guarded one person until this day. Isolation was Deemo's only ally, yet it was his only enemy. Anticipating some form of friendly reaction, the alienated creature wished he could interact. This was the best he could do. But would it be enough? Would it be enough to penetrate the wall built in front of them?

Yet the innocent child just stared blankly.

Ready to retreat his offer as his courage started to diminish, Deemo persuaded once more before giving up. He's was ready to give up but realising it was his only opportunity to make a real friend: no way could this slip without effort. Determined, he gestured a beckon and pointed at his own hand to communicate his offer.

It was as if a penny had dropped like a drop in the ocean. Gleaming eyes widening at the message received, the youngling sat up from her slouch.
Unsure on how to grasp his peculiar hand, her coal covered fingers wavered back and forth to find a solution to the unknown.
She attempted contact with the wrist, but hovered away at the silly idea. Then she tried to hold the whole pentadactyl limb, but failed. A muffled sign escaped her mouth. Hesitantly, Alice tried her final resolve and clasped onto a single branch of Deemo. It was much more easier to hold onto a single finger rather than multiple, even though it emphasised the sheer size difference of their fingertips. Just like that, the towering barrier smashed into shards. Satisfied, the two spent the rest of the day clutching hands and the bonds started to grow...
However, something else started to grow inside her mind in unison.
A touch so comforting, welcoming, compassionate, tender...

'How could she let go?'

'How could she wake up?'

How could she say goodbye?

Flush!

Inundated, the torrential tides of remembrances died down and the nostalgic bubble popped revealing the repulsive truth. As she sat there in abundances of rubble, Alice brought herself back to the present- the isolated present.