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Ragatha’s favorite color when she was a kid was brown. Not a dark, muddy, abyssal brown that you could get lost in, but light brown. Light brown like fall leaves that have sat on the sidewalk for long enough that they make a perfect crunching sound. Light brown like how she imagined the desert to look in all those old Western movies that her brother loved.
She’d loved them too! Less than him, because sometimes the horses got hurt and that made her cry and her crying made her brother upset which made her mother mad. But when the horses lived and the guy ended up whisking away the girl at the end, Ragatha loved watching the movies too.
Horses were also best when they were light brown. Suffolks and Clydesdales were her secret favorites. Big and strong enough to carry the weight of the world on their backs. They had eyes that seemed to carry all the world’s knowledge and tiredness.
Ragatha told her brother that Mustangs were her favorite, though. And she liked to think that if her mother ever asked her favorite, she’d say an Andalusian. Those were pretty and dainty and usually performed the best in dressage events. Her mother would probably approve of that one.
When she was still young, maybe in her early teens? Though she’d always had a hard time with timelines when things happened as she grew up… and the way Circus time elapsed had not made that any easier. But, when she was still in the process of growing up, she’d asked to paint her room light brown. Or maybe a delicate robin’s egg blue and then she could save up money to buy decorations that made her room feel like a Western desert under a blue sky.
Her room stayed white. Ragatha didn’t complain. It was better not to ask for something more than once.
Ragatha wondered, sometimes, if she could ask Caine to change the color of her room. He definitely had the capability to do something like that, given his ability to “make” food the same way he “made” entire worlds for adventures.
Her room now was pale purple. Not as bright or neon or vibrant as the rest of the Circus, which she was endlessly thankful for, but she always felt like she just blended into her room whenever she was in it. Pale purple dress on pale purple walls and a pale purple mattress-topper on her bed with nothing but a shock of red yarn to figure out where she was.
That’s not to say she was ungrateful, of course! She had a lovely room where, usually, she could expect some privacy and some peace. It was well decorated, too, it just felt a little bare. Like Caine couldn’t find anything interesting about her to fill in the space that a person might fill. There was a bookcase on one of the walls, but anytime Ragatha tried to read the titles to find a book, the words turned into squiggles.
Caine’s programming probably didn’t find it worth the space to actually put books on the bookshelf. She couldn’t blame him for that. He could probably skim through Anna Karenina and write a ten-page analysis in the time it took her to count to five.
Ragatha didn’t stay in her room often. After Kaufmo…
It was better to make sure she was spending time with the others, even if sometimes it left her feeling a little more alone than choosing to stay in her room might have. It was better if she never let herself find out that she preferred her room. That’s where it always started with the others.
Ragatha was just in her room to quickly scrub a stain off of her dress now. Technically, she didn’t need to go through with all the trouble, but there was always a kind of kindness to the routine of scrubbing and cleaning and fixing something herself.
The after-party of the awards show had been lovely. Gangle and Zooble seemed, impossibly, closer than they had been before the whole gun adventure. Kinger had gifted Ragatha with a little butterfly pendant he’d found somewhere. He’d taken it back a few moments later, though, when he found her again at the party and declared with so much joy that she’d found his wife’s necklace and he’d just been looking everywhere for it.
It was the thought that counted, after all, and Ragatha had almost cried when he gave it to her. It was the giving that she cared about, not the actual necklace itself. The joy on his face when she’d “found” it had been more than worth giving it back.
Pomni had started looking at Ragatha like she could actually see her again. Like Ragatha existed. Pomni had smiled at her. For her. Ragatha couldn’t bear to ask how the game had ended, didn’t want to let anything else exist in that moment besides Pomni smiling at her.
She tried her best to soothe the guilt by telling herself she’d ask later.
Now, she was scrubbing a wine stain out of her dress so hard that it could have given her rug-burn if she wasn’t fabric herself.
It was her fault, of course. Pouring herself a glass of wine with clumsy hands as if she hadn’t known all the different types of wine and what they paired with and how much was too much since she was ten… Or maybe eight?
Ragatha scrubbed harder. It didn’t matter how old she’d been when she learned the difference between one glass and three, what mattered was that she should know better.
Wine stains have always been hard to get out. Hard to get out of cream, taupe, lavender… Red wine, like blood or tomato sauce, never really comes out of light colored clothes, it just kind of leaves an imprint. Even if others can’t see it, there’s always a lingering sense that it was once there.
Pomni’s face, her smile going from something soft and maybe a little tired to something strained, played in Ragatha’s mind again. She never should have asked and then she wouldn’t have hurt Pomni and then she wouldn’t have spilled the wine and then she wouldn’t be back here in her slip and her petticoat with her dress stained all down the front.
Her fingers were starting to hurt a little. They were cramping up, but she couldn’t really feel that. She just pushed through. Maybe she could get that wine stain out if she just tried hard enough.
There was a tear leaking down her chin. She didn’t wipe it away, didn’t acknowledge it, just let it travel down her chin and fall onto the dress. Maybe the saline would help.
Then another tear fell. And another. And another until her vision was all blurry and she couldn’t see her dress so she had to put it down and she was wondering just how she’d ended up crying two times today.
She’d never been a pretty crier until she came to the Circus. Her face would get all red and snotty. Her eyes would get red, too. Her mother once said it made her look like a beached whale on pot, that she should clean herself up. It was kind of funny in retrospect, to Ragatha at least. Then she’d told her coworkers that story and no one really laughed…
Kinger had been sweet when she was crying. She didn’t really understand why he wasn’t upset, but it had felt nice. Like huddling under a pillow fort.
Maybe there’d just been more tears lodged away somewhere that she didn’t want him to see. It would have felt dramatic to just keep crying after he helped her, wouldn’t it?
So, the leftover tears kept falling and Ragatha just sat there. Her dress lay beside her on the floor, she sat there hugging her knees like a kid on the playground and stared at nothing. She tried to breathe as quietly as she could, not make a sound besides a stuttering breath here or there. A sob, maybe, but she swallowed those down as quickly as she could.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that. It felt like only a few seconds. Or maybe half an hour.
At some point, though, her tears were starting to run dry and there was a knock at the door.
It was gentle. Softer than Ragatha knew what to do with.
She tried to clear her throat as quietly as possible. Make it sound like she wasn’t just staring into space and crying for no real reason for the past whoever-knows-how-long.
“Hello! I’m getting dressed, please don’t come in yet!” Ragatha stood up. Her legs weren’t shaky, she told herself, and her hands didn’t tremble like that. She was a grown woman, it was time to get a handle on herself.
“That’s okay! Uh, take your time!” The voice outside the door was nervous, awkward. Awkward like a habit, nervous like walking on eggshells. Like they didn’t know where to put their feet yet. Pomni.
Oh, god, Pomni. Ragatha couldn’t look like this in front of Pomni. Pomni was new and already dealing with Jax and doing everything for everyone. It wasn’t right to make her problems Pomni’s problems too.
Ragatha’s breath was coming quickly. So, so quickly, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to take one deep breath. She was allowed one deep breath for Pomni’s sake and then she could put on a dress and be whatever Pomni needed from her right now.
She took that deep breath. It wasn’t as calming as she’d hoped, it felt more like what she imagined a straitjacket might feel like. But she dove into the closet anyways to find a replacement for her dress.
Now, of all times, was not the moment for the Circus to glitch. But Ragatha’s always had bad luck with those kinds of things, so instead of seeing her usual dress there, purple and comfortable and kind of bland, she saw a flannel. Jeans like cowgirls wore in the movies. Why was there a cowboy hat too? And boots??
This was the last thing she needed, she was going to look stupid in front of Pomni right after crying her eyes out and doing what one of her past coworkers called “that freaky dissociation stare thing”.
She didn’t really have time to do anything else, though, so she just traded her slip and petticoat for the jeans, the undershirt, and the flannel and left the wine-stained dress on the ground. She declined the boots and the hat, though, she’d look like a total caricature.
“Sorry, Pomni, was there something you needed?” There was some kind of irrational fear lingering. She was a plush doll, logically she wouldn’t be able to be all snotty and gross, but what if Pomni could see it anyways?
When Ragatha looked down at Pomni, though, she froze. Pomni’s face was red, her mouth hanging open just a little.
“Oh- oh, I’m sorry, did I do something, are you okay?” Ragatha had done something to upset her, of course she had, she always does this. She ruins everything and-
“Uh, where did you find those clothes?”
Ragatha blinked. Pomni hated them. Her mom always hated when she wore pants, too, she should have expected this.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t find anything else. It was this or my dress. And, my dress is really stained after, um. After I spilled my glass. And I was looking but I think the Circus glitched. I know it looks dumb, but it’s all I could-”
“No, you look nice.” Pomni didn’t seem to be able to look Ragatha in the eyes.
Ragatha stopped in her tracks. Now, it was her turn for her cheeks to flare red. One of her hands went to the back of her neck, kind of like holding it might keep her from exploding.
“Oh. Uh, thanks.”
There was a beat of silence that lasted way too long before they both seemed to break out of that moment.
“Anyways I just wanted to-”
“Sorry! What did you want-”
“Oh-”
Pomni giggled a little, her eyes looking up at Ragatha through long, dark brown eyelashes and Ragatha thought she might drown in that moment. She really thought she might die and be reborn when Pomni looked at her like that. Like Ragatha herself was reason enough to share a smile.
Pomni spoke first. Ragatha couldn’t find it within herself to speak, to break that spell.
“We kind of got worried because you’ve been gone for a little bit. Kinger was asking about you, so I went to come check in and make sure you’re alright. So-” Pomni blinked, kind of looking like a frog for a moment, “uh, how are you- doing?”
Ragatha didn’t quite know what to say.
She was done crying. Her tears had run out. But she still felt fragile. Fragile enough that if she said she was fine, it would be as hollow as a porcelain vase. But there was no way she could just… say she wasn’t feeling her best.
What answered Pomni’s question, then, was a beat of fragile silence that Ragatha rushed, too late, to fill.
“I’m okay! The stain is just- it’s really giving me a rough time! My arms are all sore!” Ragatha forced a giggle. She was fine. She was fine, she’d cried and got it all out. It was time to be a grown-up and act her age again.
There was something that Ragatha couldn’t understand in Pomni’s eyes. Something she didn’t know how to even start unraveling.
“Do you have baking soda? Or, um, do you know if there is any?” Pomni glanced behind Ragatha into her room for a moment, then glanced away quickly like it was something she wasn’t allowed to see.
Ragatha moved just a little to the side to give her a better view.
“I- I don’t think so? We can always ask Caine, though. I mean- it won’t be real, so I don’t know what you want it for-” Ragatha’s hands found each other and started fidgeting the way they always did when she felt lost. Clasp, unclasp. Rub between the joints. Clasp, unclasp.
“I… don’t really want to bother Caine right now.” There was another beat of silence. “But, um, to get the stain out later, you can use baking soda. Or hydrogen peroxide and detergent. But baking soda is cheaper! For, uh, when money matters. Out of here.”
Ragatha could kiss her right now.
Ragatha’s cheeks immediately flared, she did not mean to think that, where did that come from- That was so weird to think right in front of the girl that’s talking to her and rambling about baking soda! If she was alone, she’d pull her hair out and slam her head into the wall and walk in circles and dunk her own self into the potato fryer. But, no, she had to stand her and act like she hadn’t just thought something crazy like that about her friend. Her friend who seemed to be more interested in Jax than anyone else and so it was so stupid and selfish of her to even entertain a thought like that-
Pomni was looking directly at her now with… that expression in her eyes that Ragatha still had no clue how to even begin to pick apart.
“Besides, uh, until the Circus is working again- I think you look good in that outfit too! You look, um, tough. Like you’d be good at rodeos.” Pomni’s eyes widened and before Ragatha could try to figure how to respond, she kept talking, “Was that a weird compliment? I’m sorry, I’m just- your jeans are good!”
Pomni gave Ragatha two of the most awkward thumbs ups she had ever seen in her life. And she fell even deeper.
“Uh- thanks!”
“Yeah!” Pomni glanced around like the Circus had caught on fire and she needed to find an exit. “Want to come join me and the others? We’ve missed you!”
Ragatha couldn’t let herself realize that choosing to be alone felt better than feeling lonely. But right now, she felt anything but lonely. Right now, she felt like she was maybe a little too close, too warm, too open.
But that probably meant she was doing something right. So she put a bottlecap on every thought that screamed to hold Pomni’s hand or move that little unruly strand of hair on her forehead. She just nodded.
“That sounds… that sounds great, Poms.” Maybe a nickname. Maybe a nickname was somewhere she could start.
Pomni was quick to fill the silence as they walked to meet with the others anyways. She talked about how she learned this baking soda trick, a classic college party that went wrong, and Ragatha began to realize that her younger self was only half right.
Light brown was a beautiful color for how well it accented other colors. But there’s no color you can drown in quite like the rich coffee brown of Pomni’s eyes.