Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Organ is lonely. The only thing to keep them company are the Drapeflies hiding in the curtains and the Pharlids crawling in through the pipes and the caverns beyond. And of course the instrument they play away at tirelessly.

On rare occasions, their sister would visit. They both know she is not supposed to, but she does anyways, not letting Mother's words deter her. It's like a shared act of small defiance between them. For that reason, the visits remained rare, even though they see how desperate their sister is to come by more often every single time.

They know she fears that one day, she would come to see them and only find a pile of dusty thread with broken, cracked mask and an old, faded longpin. She knows how they feel about their situation, about their life - if this fading existence could even be called that.

Imprisonment - being sealed away - is the punishment for committing a cardinal sin. They know it, they'd seen the hidden cell in the Slab, where a dangerous Weaver is kept, according to their mother. They know they weren't supposed to be there, anyways, but Mother had allowed it.

But wanting to be more than what she had created them for was a step too far.

She tries to spin it as protecting them from worse harm to Lace. That common bugs would endure far worse punishments for their sins, that she is keeping them safe from that down here, in this dusty, old, forgotten part of the Citadel.

The fact that they are surrounded by lakes of muckmaggots that would love nothing more than to consume their silken shell whole brings how much she actually cared about their safety into questions.

That's another thing their sister often worries about - not finding them in the Organ at all, because they decided to go for a dip in the infested waters surrounding their little prison. They'd considered it many more times than they can count, but after seeing the horror on her face when they for the first time let the ferocious bugs bite at their arm - as a test for future endeavors - they stopped. Every time the temptation returns, they remind themself of that expression, seared into their mind.

Their desire for an end is strong, but for now, their want to not hurt their sister even further is stronger. She's suffered enough under their mother - they do not want to add to that.

They continue their haunting melody that echoes through the empty halls of the Exhaust Organ and out into the Mist that had taken over a section of Sinner's Road. According to their sister, it had turned into a maze of smog and dregs, an easy place to get incredibly lost in. She'd always follow the organ's music to it, or conducted the silk flies residing in the area to show her the way in the rare moments they weren't playing - mainly when they had collapsed from exhaustion after toiling at the instrument so long, silk stretching thin and fraying, causing them to grow tired, something that should've been impossible for silk-spun bugs like their sister and them.

Their body is slowly unraveling, falling apart. Without Mother's care, their death was inevitable, but in a distant future. Unlike Lace, they were made with the thought of being able to exist without new silk for a long time. They weren't the nestling, and it showed early after Lace was made, when they'd already started growing a bit independent from Mother.

Perhaps she'd expected the both of them to hate each other, that her preferential treatment of Lace would harbor disdain between them. Jealousy, anger, those sorts of things.

Instead, the moment they'd laid their eyes on the bundle of silk that was their little sister - one of the rare moments of trust and care from their mother, being allowed to hold her - they were smitten. They wanted to keep her in their arms forever, keep her safe from the cruel world beyond the Cradle. They didn't want her to have to learn the hard ways like they had to.

As the memory fades, they press the keys a bit more aggressively than intended, anger boiling beneath the surface. How they hated Mother, and yet they still craved her affection and approval. It is all they've ever known - the tiny bits of positive reinforcement from her, and the adoration from their sister.

Quiet footsteps break the monotony of the Organ, and they perk up as they hear an elevator descend.

Their eyes were never very sharp, and the fraying has certainly not helped, strands of silk constantly hanging down in their face as it slowly falls apart from fading.

The noise puts them in high alert, just in case some hapless bug or perhaps even a Weaverspawn had managed to find their way here, somehow. There is a familiar weight to the steps, the rhythm one they feel like they should recognize, and yet something about it was... off.

There's a sound of something soft being dragged across the floor.

Their hand hovers close to their longpin, ready to defend themself if need be. They watch the way to the lift, squinting their eyes as they try to make out the intruder, willing the wiggling shapes to still into a proper form, ignoring the lines of black silk obscuring sections of their vision.

A figure steps into the Organ. The wavy blobs turn into a white figure that they know quite well when they scrunch up their eyes even more - but something about her has changed.

"Phantom?" their sister asks, taking slow steps towards them.

Relaxing, they let go of their weapon, rising from their seat at the Organ and making their way down to their sister. As they get closer and their vision properly focuses on her, they see the changes - the once uniform silk around her face is adorned with gentle curls and there is a long dress flowing from her body, dragging behind her and seemingly fading into thousands upon thousands of different threads. And they don't fail to notice the horns that have sprouted from her head, strangely reminiscent of their mother's appearance.

"You have endured your punishment long enough, Phantom. You are hereby relieved from your duty."

They stop in front of her, looking directly at her. "I...?" they rasp, voice hoarse from such long disuse. "Did Mother...?"

"Mother is no more, my dear sibling," Lace speaks with a strange mix of emotions. They hear sadness and anger and frustration, but also happiness and relief. There's even a bit of her trademark teasing lilt in it.

"She is gone..?" Phantom inquires, wanting to hear the words once more, not truly believing it yet. They know Lace wouldn't lie to them, not about something like this, but the idea that they were free after so long... it doesn't feel real, and they can't help but question if they are dreaming.

Lace nods. "It is a long story, but she no longer holds control over us." She reaches a hand out for Phantom to take. "I will gladly tell you, but let us leave this place first. A prison is no place to rejoice about the freedom we waited for so long."

Their body trembles, the words sinking in. Freedom, after so long. After so many years of toiling away at the Exhaust Organ, punished by a paranoid mother for the sins of her first children. Isolated from the world, from their peers, from their sister. Left to themself, to rot away, to fade into obscurity, forgotten by the world that continued moving without them. Left with no one and nothing to lash out at but themself.

They take Lace's hand, grabbing it firmly.

"Lace," they murmur, holding out their other arm towards her. It was littered with black threads that were frayed, though unlike much of their body, most of this silk isn't fading from lack of care and resupply. Lace knows of their habits, and she knows that no matter how many times she tries to get them to stop, it will inevitably happen again - so instead, she has taken to trying to mend the injuries herself. She is no Weaver, and her skill in no way matches Mother's intricate abilities - but it is good enough, and the gesture is what means the most to Phantom, anyways.

She looks at their wrist, then at them with a questioning look.

"Pull... pull at one of the loose strings. Please." Their voice is gruff, words almost a whisper, because speaking any louder stresses their already damaged vocal cords - or at least the silk organ imitating the real thing. "I- I need to know this is real..."

Please. Don't let this be a dream.

Lace's expression goes from confused to unbelievably soft, a kind gaze upon them. Without saying any more, she does as asked, tugging at one of the threads that hang from their wrist, just enough so that they felt a twinge of pain.

It courses through their silk, and they know - it's real. They aren't dreaming - there is no fantasy to wake up from. Lace is here, Mother is gone, they don't have to wither away with the dregs anymore.

Silky, white tears form at the corners of their eyes underneath the mask, and they can't help the sniffle that escapes them.

Lace turns towards them fully, and suddenly pulls them in for a proper hug. They freeze for a brief moment, before returning the gesture, clinging to their sister as sobs wrack their body. Their head is placed on her shoulder, and she pats them on the back, one hand trailing through the silk atop that has frayed like hair.

The Organ is silent except for the echoes of their cries.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the tears stop. Whether they came from joy, sorrow, anger or perhaps an odd mix of the three, Phantom felt... better now.

Lace smiles at them, small fangs showing. "Come," she beckons, "let us leave this wretched place behind."

Unable to muster the strength to speak, they simply nod, squeezing their sister's hand. She returns the gesture as she guides them to the elevator that leads up to the Citadel above.

Whatever the future holds... they have each other.