#gabriele

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Two dark, hollow pits of a shadowy grey, swimming in an ocean of cloth. Santi had always found the featureless mask covering the entirety of their face, head, and neck to be comforting. Much like they did with the 3-piece suit covering the rest of their body. Dark grey and sleek – it didn’t make them stand out, but was fashionable regardless. Santi could always divert the curious gazes, and the whispered words dispersed like steam if they wished it. It was all fine. It really was. But no one- 

“Ah, there you are, Santi” 

“So I am.” 

- 

Santi swallowed thickly, doing their best not to let the stress get to them – and failing. They followed Gabriele closely, holding their friend’s hand as the two of them approached the mansion’s doors. They had never even seen such a... beautifully grand building. They felt out of place in front of such opulence – feeling almost measly compared to it. Still, Gabriele went on and grabbed the large metal knocker on the dark oak door. 

“I-I’m not... I’m not sure about this, Gabriele...” Santi said, a hesitant tremble shaking at their words. 

“Oh, Santi, don’t be like that now! My parents and I went through so much trouble to prepare all this for you! Surely, you wouldn’t want our effort to go to waste?” Gabriele replied, pouting, though her eyes were twisted in a smile. 

“I... suppose not.” 

“Good answer,” she cooed sweetly, with what Santi thought might be a condescending smirk twisting her features for just a second before melting into a smile instead. Gabriele rapped at the door with the heavy-looking knocker, the vibrations of metal against wood rattling Santi to their core. 

- 

Santi sighed deeply, hoping to release their stress along with their breath – and failing. They followed Gabriele cautiously, keeping in mind where her hands were as the two of them approached the limousine’s doors. They had never seen a car so grossly grand. They felt sick, standing in front of such disgusting opulence – everything around it feeling measly and dirty in comparison. Still, Gabriele approached it with almost-glee, looking back at Santi facelessly. 

“You coming?” she trilled, her voice muffled a surprisingly small amount. Santi didn’t reply, not increasing the slow pace of their stride towards the vehicle.  

Gabriele continued, “Oh, Santi, don’t be like that, now! I went through so much trouble to arrange this all for us. We both know how busy it can get for the other, no?” 

“I’m sure that you do,” Santi said with all the calmness they could muster, finally having come up to the car. Gabriele flexed her jaw and scoffed quietly enough that the usual person would not be able to hear. But Santi did. Regardless, Gabriele grasped the door handle on the side of the limousine and knocked on the window – likely signalling for something – the dull sound of knuckles against glass making Santi clench their gloved fists. 

- 

“Do you like it?” asked Gabriele, wildly gesturing across the entire dining hall with her arm. 

“It’s... pretty,” Santi said cautiously, eyeing Gabriele’s reaction. At Gabriele’s satisfactory hum, Santi let themself actually inspect the room. Orange lights danced across an assortment of dark woods and black stone, pouring from the lit fireplace in the far wall. The ceiling was incredibly high, with an assortment of metallic chandeliers hanging from it. Impressive though it all was, Santi’s attention was drawn to the long, tall table – it was like from a fairy tale Santi’s mother would read to them. It was beautiful – fit for a king or queen. Fit for royalty. 

“So,” Gabriele exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight, “you wanted me to show you... Magic. To teach you.” 

“Y-yes.” 

“You want to be like me?” 

“Yes. Yes... please.” 

“Then you will have to promise to do as I say, okay?” 

“...Okay. I promise.” 

- 

“Do you like it?” asked Gabriele, wildly gesturing with her hand at the car’s interior, as she sat comfortably opposite to Santi. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“So dismissive,” Gabriele said with a huff, removing the brimmed hat previously casting shade over the blank layer of skin stretched over her actual face. Then, she took her sunglasses off, though her eyes were still clad in shadow – visible only due to the holes torn into that second layer of skin. Grotesque though it all was, Santi’s attention was still drawn to Gabriele’s hungry, arrogant gaze – it was like from a fairy tale Santi’s mother would read to them. It was sickeningly cocky – fit for a king or queen. Fit for royalty. 

“I assume you’re not going to be removing that ridiculous thing?” Gabriele asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer before scoffing and continuing, “So, you really want to know about... them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I expect you to cooperate.” 

“Sure.” 

“Really cooperate.” 

“Sure.” 

- 

Santi’s eyes were wide with wonder. Drops of liquid perspiration trickled down Gabriele’s face, and her eyes were squeezed almost completely shut. However, that was not where Santi’s attention was drawn. Instead, their eyes were glued to the small – no taller than half a metre – figure, standing on the table. It was dressed up in fancy clothing, almost resembling a doll. Its lack of a face, however, quickly shattered that illusion. Regardless, the blank, faceless figure moved around gracefully, its movements fluid, yet not natural.  

“It’s... it’s amazing! Can I do this too, Gabs?” Santi praised and asked in an almost-shout, still not looking away from the figure. 

Gabriele smiled widely, before saying, “It’s called a Puppet. And of course, you can, Santi. You just have to do exactly as I say! Especially for this next part.” 

- 

Santi’s eyes were narrowed with focus. Drops of liquid red dripped down Gabriele’s real face, and her eyes were half-lidded, staring at Santi in a challenging manner. However, that was not where Santi’s attention really was. Instead, they were focusing on channelling Magic into their hands – as they took their glove’s hem and stretched the glove further onto their hand – performing their Gesture. Feelings of doubt and uncertainty – Santi’s Magic – flooded the interior of the limousine, the intensity making Gabriele flinch – and drop the knife she had used to ‘unmask’ herself. 

“How in the...?” Gabriele muttered with her – now fully revealed – eyes wide, before speaking more loudly, “Right, Santi is all grown up now... This is how you want to play this, is it?” 

“With effort, to answer your previous question. And no. This is how I have to play it, Gabs,” retorted Santi, poison seeping into their usually neutral demeanour. 

“What was it that we said about cooperating?” Gabriele hissed in response, her face – paler than the rest of her deep brown skin and slick with blood – twisted in a scowl. 

“I was just levelling the playing field. This is cooperating – in the sense that we’re both playing the same game, on the same board, for once. Now, give me what I came for.” 

- 

“Don’t look at me like that, Santi! You wanted this, remember?” 

Santi stared at the slab of meat wordlessly. The flesh hadn’t even been stripped of the skin. It was still raw and red – with blood pooling under it, staining the gleaming, white plate. 

“Dig in, Santi. You wanted Magic? You wanted to be like me? Then eat it.” 

“P-please... do I have to?” they pleaded meekly, their vision spinning and bile threatening to climb up their throat. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Santi! You promised!” Gabriele snapped, though her enraged voice had a hint of an odd elation in it, “This is all for you! For your own good! Don’t you want to be better? Like me? Don’t you want to change – climb into a chrysalis and emerge a beautiful butterfly?” 

- 

“Don’t look at me like that, Santi! You wanted this, remember?” 

Santi stared at the images wordlessly. 

“Why so down, Santi? You wanted to know what happened to your family? Your parents? Now you know.” 

“Sh-shut up,” Santi growled weakly, their vision spinning and bile threatening to climb up their throat. 

“’Same game’... Don’t make me laugh. You don’t know my game,“ Gabriele said condescendingly, before chuckling and continuing, “I have to admit, you had me scared, there, for a second. I thought the old Santi was gone... but no, my pure little butterfly was just hiding. You never changed, no... I didn’t let you, after all...”  

- 

“I’ve always adored the saying ‘like a moth to a flame’. Imagine loving something so much that you are willing to die for it, to sacrifice everything else. But I think that such a person would also need to have nothing else – for the flame to be its only love, the only thing it needs. So that it is willing to get burnt,” Gabriele said, the skin of her jaw stretching oddly as she spoke. Hearing barely a slurred string of somethings – only somewhat resembling words – as Gabriele spoke, Santi stared at what seemed to be a short flap of skin stretching across the edges of her face, ending perfectly evenly – looking almost cut. “Don’t you think so as well, Santi?” Gabriele questioned, before suddenly – with the slightest gentleness – cupping their chin and wiping the mix of blood and saliva coating it with her thumb. Meeting Santi’s unfocused eyes, she continued, “Because if it has nothing else, can it even tell that the burning of its wings is not love? Does it even care? Still, it will fly to the flame.” 

- 

“I don’t think you quite understand, Santi,” said Gabriele, a strained, almost incredulous guffaw quickly dying on her lips. “Like a moth to a flame, like a lamb to a slaughter, I want the beautiful butterfly too, to follow.” 

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