The Dungeon Child

I'm not in the mood.

I don't have to say the words for the Mother to understand them, which is good, because I don't think I could say them at all. She entered my room some time ago to check on me, and to drop off a warm meal. The meal is most assuredly cold by now.

Without Th-

NO.

...

Without my previous boss to protect my room, I have to settle for beetles. Reaching under my bed, I dully seize a small insect and can feel it struggle inside my chubby hand as I pull it out. Preparing some mana, I open my hand and-

I drop the spider as though it were coated in acid and fall over backward, a blunt impact rendering my rump temporarily numb. Twisting through the air, the spider lands on its limbs and sprints back under my bed. I let it go, liquid rushing to my eyes. It's not from the pain. At least, not from the outside pain.

I have made a discovery. I would prefer not having a System over having this deep ache.

Slumping, I allow myself to fall backward, the back of my head squishing into the carpet slightly as I stare at the ceiling. When I realize there still aren't any webs hanging around the fan, I close my eyes and let the inky blackness of my eyelids cover me.

I inhale deeply, feeling the chemical-infused air rush into my lungs and empty their nutrients into my lungs. My understanding of my genetics is spotty at best, but at least I can see how the most basic of my functions work. It's with these that I can distract myself, if only for a few minutes.

My core is a red, thumping... thing. I don't know and don't really care right now.

My...

My distraction has ended. I can't think like this.

The door cracks open, and I roll away from it, curling into a comfortable position. "Go away."

"Argus?"

I sit up, surprised at the voice as I turn to look. "Charlie?"

She enters with a weak smile, gently prodded in by the Mother. Approaching me, she sits down and takes off her buckled shoes, setting them aside. Her puffy shirt and knee-length skirt wrinkle slightly, and she looks forlorn. Her eyes look to me. "Are you okay?"

I fold my legs, forcing strength into my voice to make it not waver, but it doesn't work very well. "Of course."

Leaning in, she awkwardly puts her arms around me in the same way the Mother did when she said she loved me, putting her head on my shoulder. I can feel my shoulders tense, the muscles knotting before unwinding and relaxing. It's startling, realizing just how little control I really have over my own body.

Once again, liquid is streaming down my face, and she leans away, seeing them and frowning. "It's okay to cry. Mommy says it helps."

I thumb one of the drops away and stare at it. "That's what it's called? Crying?"

She nods in response, then looks at her feet. I allow my crying to continue. If it'll help with this feeling at all, I'll take it.

"Our dog died a year ago."

I look up, startled. While familiar with dogs, I never used them in my dungeon, so I don't know what they're really like all that well. She continues, the vestiges of crying beginning to show themselves on her face. "His name was Wolfgang. Daddy said it was the name of a guy that made really good music, but it was just my dog's name to me. It really-"

For the first time since I've known her, I see her remarkable maturity and unshakable calm fall away with something as simple as a stutter, and it leaves her looking vulnerable and small. It makes me feel like I want to protect her, to include her in my dungeon and keep her safe. Not that being in my dungeon worked for Thes-

NO.

She tucks her knees up, whispering now. I have to lean in to hear her. "I felt like I wanted to scream and break things, and I did for a bit, but it didn't make me feel better. It made me feel worse."

I think to my morning, where I destroyed my formula for candy sticks in a fit of rage. It hadn't made me feel better, just like Charlie's saying, and I listen a little more intently.

Leaning back, she splays herself out on the squishy floor, talking to the ceiling. "So we dug a hole in the yard and put a box in it. Wolfgang wasn't really in the box, but Mommy and Daddy said we could bury our feelings outside instead of inside, so we covered it with dirt and put a rock on it. Later, Daddy got a rock with Wolfgang's name on it, and we put that there instead."

She turned her head to look at me. "Do you want to do that for Thesis?"

She said the name.

My brain stalls as I hear it, and my face flinches uncontrollably as the maelstrom of feelings I'd been holding back erupts through my mind. The crying intensifies exponentially, and my breath hiccups as I collapse, curling in on myself and sobbing.

I'm far away when the Mother rushes in, wrapping me in her arms and whispering soothing words into my ears. I can't make them out past the roar in my ears.

What do I want? Vengeance against Pop? Yes, for sure. But that's the only feeling I have a name for. Vengeance is something I knew intimately as a dungeon, but it has no place as a human. No outlet as a child.

For the first time, I realize just how utterly helpless I am. The absolute lack of control I have as Jason, as opposed to the total control I wielded as Argus. I can do nothing.

No, that's not true.

I can do this. For Th-

For Thesis.

Pulling myself back to reality, I lean into the Mother and cry. I cry for a long time, and she lets me. She ignores the fact I'm ruining her shirt, the dark stains spreading across the fabric as she simply tucks my head into her chest and lets me get it out. Charlie sympathetically places a hand on my shoulder.

Several minutes later, I extract myself from her arms, kneeling with my head slumped. The Mother places her lips on the top of my forehead and leaves them there for a full second before pulling away. Taking a ragged breath, I calm down.

I feel... better.

Turning, I reach under my bed and pull out a sturdy brown box of papers, dumping them across the floor. Shaking the dust out of it, I right it and set it down.

We all stare at it for a few minutes.

It's a bit of a blur, but somehow we end up outside, in the slight drizzle coming down from the overcast sky, dark clouds seeded with rain. The Mother has a spade, and I'm holding the box. Charlie finds a large, smooth gray rock, and then hugs me as the Mother digs a small hole, mud, grass, and dirt building in a gradual pile next to the small garden in our back yard.

Once the hole is dug, the Mother gently tosses the spade aside. It makes a dull thump as it hits the grass.

It sounds final.

The Mother clears her throat. "Thesis was an amazing pet. I don't think I've ever seen a spider as well-behaved as she was, and she didn't deserve what happened to her. Wherever she is, I bet she's catching flies and having a grand time. I'm sure she wouldn't want us to let our lives slow down, and if she could talk, she'd probably tell us to keep going, and to love her in memory like we did in life."

I step forward, clutching the box. Like Charlie and her Wolfgang, there is no body inside. I'm not sure I could do this if there was. Bending down, I place the box in the hole, then stand back. I can't say long words like the Mother can. I'd trip over myself, and Thesis doesn't deserve that either.

I say my words simply. Only four of them, but it's enough to make the rain coming down my face to taste salty as it passes my mouth. Charlie gives me another hug, and we all head inside to get dry.

I love you, Thesis.