forget me not ❀

[Be strong? Kamila wasn’t strong. At least she never felt strong. Either way, the sudden embrace catches Kamila off guard. She almost squeaks.

…Still, the warmth of human contact was always nice. Kamila ends up returning the gesture, only much tighter, burying her face into the other’s shoulder.]

…R-really?

[Was Menma able to even make a promise like that?]

[Menma feels something like an older sister. It's strange, really, she hasn't felt like one ever since she left her brother--and the rest of her family.]

Menma will stay and protect Kamila. She's met so many friends here. Menma doesn't want to leave everyone behind... And--forget everyone again.

[Confidently, Menma pulls away from Kamila to place her hands on the younger girl's shoulders.]

Menma and Kamila will beat the final boss together!

…but why?

Menma…Menma..what if…what if I don’t want to let them go?

[She asks rather immaturely.]

[...Why indeed? Why was it better to let someone that you love go, rather than spend your life with them?

Perhaps, sometimes, letting them leave makes them happier. Life doesn't have any easy answers.]

Menma thinks that... Kamila can be strong. And she can be strong and let people go, if it makes them happier. And believe that they'll remember her--because they'll be friends forever.

[A pause for a moment, until Menma instinctively wraps her arms around the younger girl.]

[Kamila stops crying to hear Menma’s words of wisdom. She hid her face, listening, allowing the words to be the only focus in her mind. Kamila finally reveals her face, watery eyes making their way to meet the ghost’s.]

…Forget…

[She whispers the word, having it sink in. The mind was a great tool. Even if memories were taken away, something in the subconscious would respond to them. Sherlock, or anyone else to have left Kamila for that matter, may never think of her again. Yet, somehow, deep down, they would still know who she was.

..It was an odd concept for the eight year old to grasp, yet a hopeful one. She wipes away some tears with her sleeve before confiding in the older girl.]

…I…I use to think…t-that even though…he took us all away from our homes…

The ringmaster…

wasn’t so bad. He was just…just lonely. He wanted friends so he brought all of us here. A-and everyone was so kind…but…

[She bites her lips, un able to ramble anymore.]

[Menma locks eyes with the younger girl, tearful eyes meeting tearful eyes. But after a moment, Menma wipes her eyes with her arm, and composes herself. She kicks her legs up against the couch, her hands on her knees in a tight grip.

The little ghost girl pauses for a moment, to let Kamila's thoughts sink in. She still doesn't know very much about the Ringmaster, only that he's something of the final boss, and he was the one that brought everyone to this strange circus.]

Menma knows there's a saying that says "when you love someone, you have to let them go". Maybe the Ringmaster knows that saying too.

[Kamila lets Menma’s words sink in a bit. As encouraging Menma was trying to be, the little lady just couldn’t believe it. Everything about this situation was terrible. Of course, she didn’t want to guilt trip Menma either.

She chokes a bit.]

Menma, what if I forget everyone!?

[Suddenly she’s looking intensely at the other girl.]

What if I forget Uncle Clay, and Bro Will, and you!? What if one day I do end up going home and I forget everyone and make them go through pain!? What if..What if one day I stay here so long I forget I even had a home!?

[With each word, Kamila begins to break away from her usual cheerful attitude. Tears begin gliding at a rapid rate, the girl’s voice trembling in sync with her body. Shamefully, Kamila hid her face in her hands.

It was a horrible dream, yet a beautiful one. Beautiful because of all the pleasant things and wonderful people Kamila got to meet. Horrible because they could easily be taken away too.]

[Kamila's question catches Menma off-guard. She stares off into space for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Eventually, her eyes close, her tears hidden, and her head lowers. She answers quietly in a voice that's barely more than a whisper.]

It's... painful to forget about people that you love...

[She tries to hold back the tears that are most certainly falling by now.]

...But you can always make new memories with them. Menma has. She's put people through a lot of pain, but... If they love you, it'll be okay.

[She takes another pause, to swallow.]

Best friends are friends forever.

[What a kind gesture, bringing Kamila some cake. Menma was the same generous individual that the little lady always admired. Even though the ghost didn’t have her previous memories, she tried so hard to still be a good friend. Kamila allows the sentence to echo in her head for a while, allowing herself to appreciate the kind gesture.

Then the question appeared. Kamila opened her lips.]

I…

[The tears began streaming down again, the numbing feeling fading away ever so slightly. Her lip trembled and the little lady held a tighter grip on the pillow for comfort.]

….Sherlock…is gone…H-He…

[Kamila swallows a few tears.]

Left…he left just like..just like Luke did…

[Suddenly she springs up, pillow in hand. Frustrated, she flings it at the wall across from the couch.]

Just like my dad did! Just like everyone does!

[As the pillow bounces off the wall and makes a safe landing on the floor, Kamila can’t help but feel ashamed. She shouldn’t compose herself like this. She grips on the corners of the couch cushions, biting her lip as she held back more tears.]

….Sorry….

[She mumbled an apology.]

[Menma listens in silence for a few moments, not moving a muscle even when the other girl tosses the pillow at the wall.

She's gone through her own losses--at the circus, and even back at home. Apparently, Kamila's father was here, and someone named "Luke". Her heart stings for a moment. Probably people that Menma knew and forgot...

...

And that thought is what makes Menma's attempts at comforting Kamila all the more painful.]

The Ringmaster takes away a lot...

[Instantly, her own eyes begin to water, but she tries not to sniffle. Kamila doesn't need someone to take pity on her with tears.]

...But... Menma believes that if people leave, they're happy where they are. And if they come back, they never really forget about you.

[In her heart, she knows that she had lost some of the memories of Kamila that she had before arriving. Menma pauses for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.]

Menma won't ever forget about Kamila again.

[But she apologized, as well...]

[The sound of Menma’s voice is like a faint whisper, making Kamila slow to react to her. She hated it. The little lady shouldn’t be so upset in front of a close friend. But the motivation to be strong was gone. Perhaps it was gone a long time ago and only now did Kamila realize the emptiness that was really inside her.

She exhales heavily, almost forgetting to breathe for a moment. Grief was a deadly disease.]

….Yes?

[The hot, steaming tears form again, Kamila’s gaze unable to travel upon the empty room. She wondered if Sherlock would remember her, if Sherlock was in as much grief as she was right now.

Probably not. It was childish to have such thoughts. Then again, Kamila was just a child. Her limbs grow heavy, still barely acknowledging Menma’s prescience.]

Kamila...

[Menma repeats herself again, standing quietly at one end of the couch. She's not entirely sure how to react; she doesn't quite know what made the other so upset.

But Menma's been through her own share of heartache since arriving in the circus--friends leaving, and maybe even, like her, coming back and forgetting everyone. Menma doesn't quite understand the seriousness of the situation, but she still realizes that it's the workings of the Ringmaster. He must be quite the evil individual if he wanted to break up friendships made here.

After a moment of silence, Menma turns around to sit with Kamila on the couch, the plates still in her hand.]

Menma... Menma brought cake for Kamila!

[She moves her hand, as if to give the cake to the other already. Her head is lowered. It takes a moment, but she's finally gained enough courage to ask the girl something.]

[Kamila stood in the doorway, the light in her eyes fading slowly. The room, which use to occupy several of Sherlock’s experiments and instruments, was empty. Their cages that they worked so hard to make, his violin, everything…Everything had left. Sherlock had left. He wasn’t here anymore.]

….Guh…

[She hated crying. Stubbornly, but the tears dripped down from her eyes and to the floor anyways. The little lady begins to tremble, putting in little effort to hold herself together.]

….So you had to leave me too?

[Kamila asked the empty room.]

But why? I-It’ s not fair…I…

[A sob escapes her lips before she continues.]

Sherlock…I loved you! I loved you so much! Y-You were…You were…

[She falls onto her knees, her arms wrapped around her trembling body.]

You were one of the greatest friends I ever had. Why did you leave me?

[There’s a quiver to her voice now, and every other word is cracked. She dully noted her dry throat or the immense trembling her body was doing—-the thing that weighed the little lady down the most was her aching heart.

This always happened. Why did she expect it to be any different now? So many people have left her. and they would only continue to leave.]

…Are you happy?

[Kamila swallows a few of her tears.]

Are you happy now, Ringmaster? Is this what you wanted? Is this part of your game!?

[She stumbles to her feet, lifting her face up. She glares intensely at the naked wall in front of her.]

Please…please I just want to go home! I can’t do anything for you! Please, you’ve done enough! Just let me go home! Please!

[She begged, perhaps pathetically. Kamila was tired of being strong. It was too much. She never asked for this. She never wanted to meet anyone if this was the result..never ending lonely-ness. It was suffocating and eating her alive.

The only sound in the trailer is Kamila’s soft sobs and tears hitting the floor. She’s cried a lot within these few months, but never this much. It was all too overwhelming of a concept, people leaving, being taken away from home, not even being allowed a goodbye.

She would never see anyone ever again. Not  a single person. This situation was not fit for an eight year old to handle.]

..If I can’t go home, just…end my time here…

[She whispers, her tears drying away. The ache was gone, but now Kamila felt completely numb. Her once natural smiles felt like a chore. She walked in a zombie like manner to the same couch Sherlock use to occupy before plopping herself on it.]

I’ll just lay here…

[She mumbles to herself, nuzzling a pillow and clinging onto it for affection.]

I’ll just lay here until I get to go home or the ringmaster just…

[Kamila whimpers, unable to finish her own sentence. She takes little note of her trailer door that was slightly open. Really, Kamila didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. It hurt too much to care, and she had learned that the hardest way an eight year old could.]

[As usual, here's a little ghost girl bouncing around the circus, her hair flying and a bounce in her step. But what's this? She's being a little bit more careful this time around, only because of the objects in her hands.

She's holding on to two plates (where she got those, she'll never know) with small pieces of cake on them. It's the remnants of her birthday cake, some of the last pieces that are left from the lovely present that was left on her doorstep a few days ago. She's kept it safe since then, eating a few pieces, but always a little bit sad that she didn't have anyone to share it with. So it's today that she decides she might as well reward the pastry chefs for their hard work and share some of the cake with Kamila.

Two forks are bouncing on each plate, the vanilla cake placed precariously on the plates in her little hands. Of course, she's careful to not topple them as she makes her way to the little lady's trailer, smiling and humming the whole way there.

As she nears the entrance to the trailer, she starts to put a piece of cake down to knock on the door--but, that's strange, the door is open just a little bit.]

Kamila? M-Menma brought cake to sha--

[Instantly, her eyes grow wide out of worry, wondering what it was exactly that has gotten the little lady so upset. Gingerly, she steps inside the trailer and to the couch where Kamila sits, leaning forward a little bit with the cake plates still in hand.]

 [Wolfwood chuckled a bit at the question.]

What kind of games? Well…

[He ponders for a second. What games…that were appriotate for little girls, did Wolfwood play? He tried to relfect on his childhood…okay maybe that wasn’t the best place to find a game to play. Uh, Uh…

Aha.]

Uh, how about tag?

[Kids played that right?]

[Menma looks a him expectantly with a smile on her face, her eyes bright and shining. Though since her arms are still hooked around his neck, he probably can't see that.

She wonders briefly what kind of games he really did play with his friends because of his silence. Her irises are focused on him curiously and her smile fades as she wonders what he could be thinking about.

But a moment later, he answers her question with "tag". She doesn't stop to think that maybe he didn't play that with his friends, being an adult, but try telling that to this excitable little girl. All of a sudden, she unlinks her arms and she drops with a quick thump on the ground behind him, her bare feet absorbing the shock from her drop and causing her legs to tremble.

She's a little bit weak on her feet for a moment, but nonetheless she's able to recover within a few seconds to tap Wolfwood on the back and run off in front of him, her dress swaying in the wind.]

Somethin’ crazy… bold… stupid. Like… iunno. 

[He couldn’t really suggest anything that didn’t have to do with hurting or killing people. ]

You look like a smart kid, though. Maybe you could come up with somethin’, ah?

[Crazy? Bold? Stupid? Well, the only thing that Menma can think of when he says those words is a Puzlocke challenge in Nokemon. She's never able to get very far whenever she tries.]

Hmm... Like beating the final boss?

 [Wolfwood takes a good glance around. There…was no one there. He blinks, a bit baffled. Was Menma imagining things? If so, how oculd the priest help her return to reality.

He smirked a little, cracking his neck.]

Do you want me to take care of them?

[He asks the ghost girl.]

[Menma looks at him, a little bit puzzled. He seems a little bit cocky, but he still means well, certainly. But she's not sure if "taking care of them" is going to work. If she can't interact with them, then how will he "take care of them"?]

Maybe... if pap--um, Wolfwood can...

[She stares around, past the groups of people crowded around them. Their voices have started to fade, and there seems to be less now, but the people surrounding them haven't let up in their looks.]

 [and LIKE A PAPA Wolfwood gives Menma a light peck on the forehead.]

You’re a good kid, Menma.

[Wolfwood looks around and follows Menma’s gaze…wondering what she’s looking at.]

What’s caught your eye?

[He asks]

[Menma looks down sheepishly at the ~papa peck~. It's odd--she was so used to being invisible for a time, and then...

...Wait, hold on, he doesn't notice the immense amount of people around them? Menma isn't able to interact with them, so she can't pull one over to show Wolfwood.]

Menma was looking at all the people around.

[Grinning, Ladd laughs a little as he releases the little girl from his grip, before patting her on the head.]

And everyone’ll be here with you, every step of the way, aight? So… ya feelin’ better, then? Sure you’re alright? Because if you’re scared of bein’ forgotten or whatever, we could do somethin’ REAL memorable…

[Like break into the Ringmaster’s home and fight him, maybe….]

...Memorable?

[Menma's eyes widen as she steps away from him, wondering what he could mean.]