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Her Frigid Curtains

Summary:

“Sometimes the excitement of being understood in a way that no other can may lead to, well… The accidental offcast of the other. That doesn’t mean her frigid curtains don’t long to drape around your heart where they belong.” - On Borrowed Paths, Ch8

——

Love is a complicated for a Borrower. Traversing haunted ground can lead to loneliness in exchange for survival when you’re only a few inches tall. A singular lost soul finds the cabin in the woods in hope of refuge — one unwittingly dashed a few years later by the flick of a switch. When all sounds are swallowed up by static, there’s only one way this story can go. Death is inevitable, but how one life begins is from the other’s end.

Some relationships have an eager start; others, however, have some more… Stabbing pains and frostbitten beginnings. And sometimes, a sorrowful ghost haunts the produce in your fridge, wanting to know why she’s left all alone.

… You know what’s ALSO a complicated matter? Reconciliation.

(Prequel to On Borrowed Paths; no main story spoilers. Feel free to read this alongside it!)

Notes:

I realized as I started developing OBP that I would need to make some room for Quiet & Spectre’s backstory! This won’t be as long form and plot-heavy as the main work, but I did want to fill in some details which couldn’t fit into the main fic/add in context to the ones that were.

Adding this as a gift to Spooky for helping me in developing the initial premise in OBP, and one of the main people curious about this section of the lore. A toast to an excellent friend and writer! 🍻

Chapter 1: Frostbitten

Chapter Text

There was a startled gasp as the surroundings shifted. A singular hand loomed over the handle of the fridge, beginning to seal away its captive in darkness. Frigid static clung to the small Borrower left within, reaching a hand out in horror; the only sound that came out of her was a stifled “wait!”

 

But it was too late. By the time that she scrambled up to the doors, her host had already closed things up and walked away.

 

Frantically, the Borrower scrambled to the door, but that alone was challenging with the shelves this slippery. Her hands clawed at the door of the fridge, ramming against the crevice within. Nothing budged. And with the air getting thicker with carbon dioxide by the minute…

 

Beans could last about five minutes without the proper oxygen supply. For borrowers, it was more like ten or fifteen. That would mean that so long as the fridge persisted, this would be a very slow and agonizing death without some form of intervention. Well, shit. What a hell of a way to go.

 

Was it worth it to even try again?

 

So far, it looked like chances were slim. Yelling out would elapse the little air she had, feeling the chill cling to silken sleeves. It wasn’t as if the Borrower was dressed for the occasion - a simple in and out, that was all. Oh, why had she trusted that stupid bat? Frustrated more than frightened, she crawled back to the spot where she’d been to ponder her options.

 

Well, clearly this was it. Better to just get it over with, right?

 

But the methods were the question. She didn’t really have a weapon on her…

 

Tentatively, she picked up the sewing needle at her side. Testing it proved it wasn’t wide enough to do the right damage in a solid blow, only bloodying the tip ever so slightly. But to be fair, she was in a fridge. Maybe there was something here that could do it more easily?

 

The serrated edges of a meat chopper caught her eye; it would take a certain kind of precision to make this work. Trembling nerves approached the weapon; it was sizable, but it would do the trick with that definitive “x.” Now wasn’t the time to hesitate. It was time for action.

 

Taking a deep breath was supposed to ease the pain when injections hit. Maybe this would be the same.

 

The Borrower took the end of the implement into her hands; with a quick thrust, the blade hit her heart. There was a shriek as the bloodied wound formed, feeling the tears cascade down her cheeks. Why did it have to end like this?

 

But the reasons didn’t matter. Before she could think more on it and the splitting pain, thoughts clouded as it all drifted away…

 

….

 

………

 

…………



…And as did she. A collapsed, broken body loomed below as the wisps of her soul congealed. The blood was still fresh; eyes dull and lifeless. There was nothing but a corpse left of her corporeal form, yet instead of dying on the spot she was left hovering above it in the aftermath.

 

Unfinished business. Just what she needed. 

 

A chill spread through the Borrower’s body looking down on it, but it didn’t last. Most nerves were dulled, and looking down it seemed it hadn’t been the only thing within the grasps of translucent skin. A quick grasp on the fridge rendered it less of a prison now, at least; she’d have to see if it was better to wait for her host in here, or haunt her new surroundings.

 

One thing was for certain: one of them was in for hell to pay. And currently, it was clear who shouldered the blame.

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