Cares of Communion (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

4- Somewhere

Author's Notes: The song in this chapter is Somewhere Only We Know by Keane, but I specifically was thinking about the cover by Lily Allen.

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"After singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives." – Matthew 26:30

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"You shouldn't be so reckless, little cherub," a voice cooed by her side, slightly broken into two. It was a sing-song tease as Alice made herself known- or rather as Francine came to realize the obvious.

"W-" the woman stuttered breathlessly, jumping to her feet so fast that her head seemed to spin, "What are you-?!"

And even though it was Francine standing up and Alice now seated upon the couch alone, the latter of the women was the one that clearly had control- an aura of regal superiority radiating from a half-closed eye and relaxed fingers softly thumping against the top of the cushion. But of course she did:

"How awfully bold of you to come into my space and ask me what I'm doing here."

Shit.

Francine couldn't seem to catch her breath after waking up so fast, but unease was now what kept her lungs just short of what she needed. Purposefully or not, she had fallen asleep in the seraph's domain. It wasn't like Francine hadn't anticipated maybe something in response to her taking rest in the entrance of Heavenly Toys, but what she had mentally prepared for was what seemed to be the usual complaint Alice sent through the speakers overhead. Heck, maybe she even a threat. The intruder felt ready for that, if only she could sit by herself just for a moment and let her mind go.

But it had gone too far by no one's folly but her own, and the warden of dolls herself had arrived in response.

Heaven only knew if this was merely a scolding or a show of wrath, and so the woman couldn't help but feel her pulse pound through her arms even as Alice looked so calmly back up. There was only one thing left to do-

"I'm- I'm sorry!" she squeaked, voice still subdued by exhaustion. Francine reached down for her bag; even though it was so much closer to her than to the angel, the dread of invading her personal space was overwhelming enough to make her take it as fast and as the waking muscles in her arms allowed. Alice's gaze simply followed the movement, but an uneven face seemed to only pierce into the woman more and more with the silence of judgement.

"I'll...I'll leave now. Sorry."

And just as the mortal took a step back to pivot and run from the consequences-

"Not so soon, are you?"

-...They had come for her faster than she could leave them behind.

Francine looked past her now half-turned shoulder to see the angel rise from her lounge. God, she forgot she was so tall. All the ink beings were simply bigger than the woman, and so to say they all made her feel small would be an understatement.

So of course, she was anxious about what would happen next. Her breath quickened, and her pulse felt like it's load had abruptly grown heavier. Eyes twitched about as she gazed at the angel, fast blinks that betrayed how turbulent her inner thoughts had become.

But as the angel stood up, maybe in her height she saw something more. Maybe the dark bags under the woman's eyes; maybe the shake in her fingers under the stress of the stained bag's weight; maybe the slight tremble of her lip that served as evidence that her mouth couldn't even gape without being tired.