Chapter 1: A Kindling, Of Sorts
Summary:
What leads someone to the Ancient Ghost Antique Store in the first place? Is it the antiques itself or the rumors?
Each has their own reason for ending up in that place, each with their own character flaws and desperations. Our story however begins in the depths of the coldest months for the town of Collinia, where Magolor has found himself with nothing to lose and too much to gain…
Notes:
The following chapter contains passive suicidal ideation, mentions of getting shot, as well as mentions of abandonment. If any of these things trigger you or make you uncomfortable then I suggest continuing with caution.
What you are about to read is basically a four-chapter long set up for the Magoranza content this fic is actually about! It’s very important for understanding the plot that you read the first 4 chapters as they contain background information, explanations of certain concepts and plot elements, as well as introduces most of the characters as they appear in this fic.
Last thing, I swear, this fic is very specifically written with Gijinka’s in mind! Magolor is unfortunately not an egg in this fic. This is for my own sanity's sake and because I need to practice writing humans. ANYWAYS-
Thank you for opening this fic! I hope you enjoy it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The night everything had happened the world had felt calm. Snow crunched with each movement of the wind whether because of a branch or the footsteps of someone left abandoned in the world. It had been snowing for what felt like forever, the town of Collinia by that point had been painted with a sheet of cotton and ice that marked the beginning of a deep winter season…
Such a thing would be nice to look out at, assuming you weren’t stuck in the cold the way Magolor was. The lights from the holiday season mixed with the soft-looking winter world would have made for a beautiful backdrop to someone’s holiday mood… yet there Magolor sat, hiding between a dumpster and some tavern’s back door, trying to create a kindling out of a broken lighter and wet wood.
He knew such an act was pointless, he was practically using the lighter's ferro rod as a piece of flint against a piece of wet wood. Had it been damp it might have been excusable but Magolor already knew for a fact that wet wood was the worst case scenario simply because it didn’t burn well and even then if he had managed to make it catch fire it would burn ineffectively. It’d take too much wood to possibly produce the heat Magolor needed in this kind of state. Yet he kept trying to set a spark anyways, desperate.
He could hear people talking as they left the tavern, their words almost meaningless to him as he felt his body twitch from the cold. He wanted to somehow go inside, yet, last time he did he was shooed out as if he were less than human, a stray cat more than a young boy. It was almost impossible to find anywhere warm to stay in winters like these. He’d been lucky so far…
“—and from what I heard, those antiques are worth a fortune if you pawn them off—” someone said to their friend as they passed the alleyway. Magolor’s ears perked up.
He’d heard about the Antique store before… but never about pawning off the items for money. It was something he’d never thought of. Yet, thinking about it, made way too much sense. Of course, he couldn’t afford such a thing but… he had always been good at sneaking into places, even if it was just to sleep away from harsh weather. If he could get in there and steal just one item he could be ok for a while…
The cold air was eating him. His shoes were slowly falling apart. The snow slowly soaking into the soles as Magolor walked almost mindlessly into the darkness. Nothing mattered. If this, if this last attempt at safety didn’t work… he’d finally lay down and give up like he’d been told to since he was 6. He’d finally cave in and accept that nothing was to get better.
He could feel the snow crunching under him as he finally stopped in front of the antique shop, staring at the poorly lit sign: “Ancient Ghost Antiques”. It was the only antique store in Collinia, at least that he knew of. Most other places were probably more normal, old items on shelves untouched by the supernatural… but here; even in front of this store; it reeked of the other side. It was no wonder such things went for such high prices.
The boy hardly wasted time, walking to the side of the building, his hands tracing each bump of the wall as he stared up at the window. He was looking for an easy opening. He’d prefer that to his usual methods of entrance. He hated picking window locks or basement hatches. Slowly but surely, as he moved across the side of the building he finally came across a window just slightly off of its own latch, an entrance coveted only because the window hadn’t been pushed properly closed. What was someone else’s small mistake was the most promising of open doors.
Magolor groaned slightly as he grabbed onto the higher window ledge. Had he been taller, he thought, he would have had an easier time climbing in. However, as he couldn’t magically grow to be taller than he was now, he simply had to push through. Using his feet and legs to push the rest of him up enough that he could open the window before practically crawling inside and onto a somewhat empty counter space. The light from the window made the dust inside the room almost sparkle like glitter, creating a textured air, as if he were in the scene from a motion picture he had never gotten to see.
He had always wanted to see a motion picture…
He shook his head as he lowered himself onto the wooden floor, his shoes slightly squeaking as he did. He winced. That would be a problem. He looked around before carefully removing his shoes. He’d leave them there, near the window… that was their squeaking wouldn’t be heard. He would rather be walking around in his wet socks than risk getting caught in that place.
Silence was broken by each small step. Magolor had always been told by adults to be careful around these kinds of things. They made him uneasy in the ways they retaliated to his existence. This however was the one case where they had a point. If he knocked down anything than surely something bad would happen and he just couldn’t risk that.
Those golden eyes of his searched the shelves for something easy to carry that surely would have been worth a little more than a few hundred. He wanted to be able to live a life… that was the point of this. If he was stealing pointlessly he would have taken the first thing he’d seen and ran… but this was purposeful. This had a reason and a point and…
Then he saw it. On a higher shelf sat a beautiful crown. It was unlike anything he had seen even in picture books. Its jewel sparkled with a beautiful green unnatural to this world. He barely thought about it as he reached up and grabbed it with his two hands, bringing it down, his mouth hanging slightly open in awe… he heard, only a moment later, a door swing open which caused him to pause. His heartbeat getting caught in his throat, his body trembling. This was it. He was caught. Surely he’d be kicked back into the cold, at worst shot. He couldn’t even move back to the window fast enough to ensure his own safety. He was completely helpless to do anything about this and—
—then everything went dark…
Notes:
At the end of every chapter I have decided to include a small section of facts and otherwise unstated information that you may find relevant to the fic.
- Yes, the crown Magolor tried to steal was the Master Crown!
- Lighters have this piece inside them called a ferro rod which is made of metal alloy that produces sparks when scraped with a hard surface! That is what Magolor was trying to use to start a fire!
- In this fic Landia is four separate women who each have their own names! This is a reference to the fact Landia has multiple heads!That’s all for this chapter! Thanks again for reading!
Chapter 2: Cold (Alternative Title: “I’m not quite ready to turn to Bone.”)
Summary:
With a spinning head and a vague emptiness in his memory the newest ghost of the Ancient Ghosts Antique Store finds a place to keep himself for the night, not knowing what or who is coming in the morning…
Notes:
The following chapter contains notable depictions of panic and general mental unwellness. If such topics trigger you or make you uncomfortable I suggest you read under your own discretion.
From this chapter onwards I can’t call Magolor his actual name which made writing this difficult. Really had to get into the Marx (Jester) mindset to pull out a nickname LMAO!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His head felt like it was emptying itself onto the floor. It was almost as if the baggage of his own memories escaped his head, leaking out and onto the unforgiving hard-wood from his eyes. The boy’s hands and knees had contact with the shop’s foundation and yet… it felt like his body could easily fall into the very ground that was cradling him. The only thing that remained in his mind was the sticky residue of panic and dread, his body still managing to shake under the weight of feelings his mind had long forgotten how to understand.
He could hear the footsteps as eyes drilled holes directly into him, their annoyance already swallowing him whole before the poor boy could even look up. He hadn’t even had a chance to breathe or to remove his hands from his ears as he noticed the flickering light of flame licking the atmosphere, lighting up the space and making it clear how the crown had, by that point rolled from where it fell to the space between the boy and this older woman he was now forced to face.
“Had no one taught you not to take things that aren’t yours, boy?” the old woman muttered in annoyance, staring down at him. Her eyes were fierce and cold. He had no words he could bring to his mouth, his heartbeat still sitting directly in his mouth. Had he spoken he might have dropped that too onto the floor along with what was his previous form…
“Great. Another one that won’t talk. That’s fine. We’ll deal with you tomorrow.” the lady spat at him, picking up the crown and placing it up on the shelf again, next to a pocket watch. Magolor felt worse when she held the item, like she’d picked up what remained of him and moved it… “You’ll stay here, got it? Not like you can go anywhere…”
The ghost had opened his mouth to reply but by the time the words were ready the woman had turned and headed back through the door she’d come from, leaving him sitting on the floor alone with his puddle of tears, his puddle of lost memories…
The next morning was like hell. His body was still so cold from the night before, curled up in the nearest corner he had found. He’d eventually tried to wander off the night before but found he couldn’t get any farther than the corner where his row split off into another. So he’d stayed there, purely out of exhaustion. The only reprieve he had at that moment was how his emotions had mellowed out into nothingness. At least he wasn’t crying still. He wasn’t sure he could handle sobbing anymore, especially not with the ways in which those sounds had begun to twist and strain his vocal cords into nothingness.
“... Ah shit a new one?” a somewhat irritating voice echoed out without warning, causing the ghost to startle from his position, practically falling forward, sprawling out onto the floor as he looked up at the mystery person.
The mystery person was a lot shorter, thinner than him. He wore an outfit that almost screamed “I lived in a circus” with his hat looking more ragged than most of the rest of him. He looked like someone who should have had much more vibrant colors than the subdued ones he was forced to wear now. It was as if this person was almost frozen perpetually in time, his face bruised from what looked like a rough slap to the face…
“Are you alright?” the person asked, seeming more curious than concerned. Then, when they didn’t get an answer they just continued, “Alright. I assume not. I’m me, you’re you. I’m going to call you Cat Ghost, Welcome to Ancient Ghosts!” The words were full of the kind of sparkle you’d hear in a carnival, in some way the other person sounded like cotton candy, crackling sparklers, rainbow circus lights… the whole shebang.
“Who are…?” Cat Ghost had begun, his ears twitching. He wasn’t used to seeing someone so vibrant and yet subdued at the same time. It was as if he were dragged down by the weight of his own existence, pulled from the sky like a bird… shot down, dead and yet at the same time not… staining snow red.
“Well, nobody here remembers their names but I decided that I’m… uh…” the person began before stopping for a moment, spinning on his foot a little bit, “Jesssster…? Yeah that sounds right!”
Jester then pulled himself onto both of his heels, doing a full 360. It was as if he were trying to get out excess energy that just wouldn’t burn off him. Everything about him seemed to beam a positivity that simply didn’t translate well into the space, what with all the dust and lingering darkness in the isle the two were currently stuck in.
“The place doesn’t open until around… 9? 10-ish?” Jester mumbled before once again stopping his spinning as he finally put a hand out for Cat Ghost to take, “So we got about two hours to kill until one of them ladies come up here and finds you! We can hang out and talk until then, yeah? Get you up and runnin!”
It was a ridiculous sentiment. In all honesty Cat Ghost didn’t want to be `up and running` yet it seemed he hardly had any choice in the matter given the insistent tone the other ghost had taken up. It was as if this other person, `Jester` was very convinced the two of them could be friends or something. Cat Ghost couldn’t see it.
He took the hand anyways, letting himself get pulled up by the sore arms onto his feet, his socks still feeling wet. He couldn’t understand why they felt wet… in fact, them being like this was the only way he could remember them. Yet something about that still stung, like salt in a wound Cat Ghost simply couldn’t remember. Everything he tried to remember felt more and more like a smear on his mind. Faces blurred, voices turned from words to sounds to high pitched horrors that made his head spin… everything about the past was at best a blur and at worst a dagger actively being stabbed into his body, rendering him immobilized as his body hit the floor again without making a single sound.
“Shit-” Jester’s voice was much more comforting now than before. He could at least tolerate the noise without it twisting and warping in his head like every other person he met. He wished more people sounded like Jester. Even when this other ghost swore he sounded somewhat bright… like a light… “Ok ok… Maybe stay sittin’ for now… you must be hella new if you can’t even stand up. Jesus…”
Cat Ghost could feel Jester’s hands holding him, positioning him carefully against one of the shelves. It was as if his body were moreover a ragdoll than a real body, cold to the touch, still a little soggy from a time lost.
“Talking, Talking” Jester repeated to himself, panicked ever so slightly, trying his best to think of something to distract the other from the encasing horrors of the mind, of the situation of… “You know, sometimes we can convince Laura to put us all near the old game consoles and play those!” Jester started as he awkwardly sat there next to Cat Ghost with his hand holding tightly onto the others, “She’s really cool like that! And since you look around my age… I’m sure she’d be willing to let you join the rest of us and stuff!” Jester smiled with his teeth, all of which were a little crooked and almost too sharp for his mouth, barely fitting together the way most teeth do, “Oh and—-”
They both sat there for a while, Jester talking almost relentlessly as he held Cat Ghost’s hand in an attempt to soothe the newer ghost from his panic. Meanwhile Cat Ghost didn’t speak a word as he helplessly leaned onto Jester, doing anything he could to steal some of the warmth Jester radiated, to somehow hold onto the comfort of the others touch… a sensation Cat Ghost swore he had never felt before… and they stayed like this until they heard a door open…
Notes:
At the end of every chapter I have decided to include a small section of facts and otherwise unstated information that you may find relevant to the fic.
- Ghost’s temperature depends on when they were turned into ghosts! Magolor’s coldness is reflective of the winter months and Marx’s warm (and later extreme heat) being reflective of summer months.
- You can gleam a lot about who a character was and how they felt about their lives before being a ghost based on their demeanor and outfits! While some things remain vague about their lives still even by that standard it gives you an opportunity to learn a little more surface detail about each ghost. Things like that are usually considered by potential buyers of possessed items since a lot of them buy these antiques for the ghosts.As of posting this I am currently working on Chapter 3 but I can't be certain when that will be posted as I am currently stressing over getting into college lol ^^
That’s all for this chapter! Thanks again for reading!
Chapter 3: Lapis Lazuli (Alternative Title: “What can I say? What can I say? What can I say?”)
Summary:
Questions come only to receive very little answers. Cat Ghost wishes he could give a reply of course but he finds that he’s already too comfortable in forgetting.
Notes:
The following chapter contains nothing I think I can TW for this chapter actually! I still suggest you read under your own discretion! If you find anything that should be placed in the Content/Trigger Warning note PLEASE comment about it and I will add it right away!
Thank you and enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meeting anyone new had always felt like some kind of burden for Cat Ghost. He had always wanted to fight it, pulling away from social situations was something his mind seemed almost conditioned to. Such things felt safe and familiar like old habits. Yet here he was, the crown from the other night being held by a mysterious woman who seemed to almost look at Cat Ghost with a deep sense of pity.
She hadn’t just taken the crown of course, what with the way she found Jester and Cat Ghost leaning on each other as if sharing their heat. It simply wasn’t right to separate the two. Which was why both Cat Ghost and Jester were being dragged along closer to the back of the store where most people don’t wander… and even if they did choose to wander there they wouldn’t remain long. It was only natural that’s where they’d end up, it was the safest place to speak with the dead.
“Alright…” the older woman began, her eyes sharp and yet gentle in their gaze, “I assume you were the intruder Linda mentioned last night.”
Cat Ghost sucked in a breath. Already the conversation was heavy with the chalky residue the puddle of his mind had left on him. He didn’t want to dig into the wounds that were still oozing out the remainder of his energy. Yet, he couldn’t avoid it, especially not with his whole existence being tied to some crown he thought was ugly. He could hardly understand why anyone would ever consider buying such a thing. To him it was a dusty old thing that would never appeal to anyone who was worthwhile.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” the woman continued, “but for now, let’s start with introductions. You may call me Laura. Me and my sisters own this shop, as I’m sure Jester has made you aware.”
As she spoke her eyes averted to the other ghost who seemed to be bored already with all the chit-chat. It was strange to Cat Ghost how Jester could be so expressive about his annoyance. Such an idea seemed so foreign. How could someone be so openly abrasive? Wasn’t he worried about judgement? Affection? … Then again, why did Cat Ghost care? He knew no one here, he didn’t need to appeal to anyone, and yet he wanted so desperately to appeal to everyone.
“Oh right! Ms. La… Landia!” Jester began twisting a portion of his hair between his pointer and middle fingers
“Laura.” the older woman quickly butted in
“Landia.” Jester repeated, “I already gave this guy a name! I thought it out and everything see! He has these cute little ears up here on his head and he’s one of us so I named him Cat Ghost!”
“Cat Ghost…?” She sounded apprehensive.
“Cat ghost!”
Cat Ghost sighed and nodded. If he were to be transparent, he didn’t want another name. He’d already grown quite attached to the unfortunately placed nickname of his. It was so simple and yet so endearing it made him smile a little. He felt almost silly for liking the name. He felt silly being there.
“Ah… well then…” Laura muttered as she finally stopped near a table, both the pocket watch and the crown being placed down on the center of it as the woman sat in a chair, generally adjacent to the ghosts, “Cat Ghost, I have to ask, do you… remember anything from before this? Your life? Your name?”
She was already leaning in to listen, as if somehow he were the most interesting thing in the room. He felt almost like a child being asked how their day at school was. To some extent, the interest was well wanted. Cat Ghost wanted to be heard and paid attention to in some way. Yet at the same time he felt like he had nothing interesting to say to this woman, nothing she hadn’t heard before. He was nothing more than a bundle of “I don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t remember” and that very clearly wasn’t what this woman was wanting to hear. He could already tell his silence was speaking words for him, his body slumping into the nearest chair. He felt… oddly calm here…
“How old are you?”
Despite his own calmness he could feel a rattling in his head, as if there was nothing there to cling to, grasping at straws for an answer as Jester sat down to his left. The boy’s positioning and big eyes were such a juxtaposition to Cat Ghost’s current state. Cat Ghost sat in a formal way, his hands fidgeting in his lap, his posture refined in a way that can only be taught to a child. It was clear, at least to Cat Ghost, that he and Jester had very different upbringings in that regard. Still, Cat Ghost found himself remaining quiet which only pushed Laura into more questions, as if she were trying to coax an answer out of him somehow.
“Do you remember how you got here?”
Cat Ghost shook his head. He was still adjusting to the feeling of being in this place from the lights and sounds to the smell of antiques and old paper. He knew, surely, he hadn’t always been here. He just couldn’t remember where he was before in comparison to the warm lighting and plushy chair he was now rotting into.
“… it was cold out there, wasn’t it?” Laura asked, leaning forward again, as if looking for even the smallest spark that remained awake in Cat Ghost’s eyes. It was like he was a lamp. Every single tug of the cord made the lights in his head flicker for an instant before the lightbulb died back out, each one completely burned to the core.
“He’s got nothing to say, clearly.” Jester said, his tone annoyed and condescending as he stretched out on the floor where he sat, “I mean, look at him! He’s like what… 14? You fourteen, kid?” Jester’s eyes wandered up to Cat Ghost’s face staring through him almost.
“I… uh… no..? I’m… 19…” Cat Ghost replied as his mind snapped out of the emptiness it currently held within itself
Jester snapped his fingers twice before he leaned forward, making eye contact with Laura, “You heard him! Lucky number 19! Who’d of guessed!”
Cat Ghost whimpered and sprawled himself out across the chair a little bit more. He could still feel the wetness of his own socks, hear the droning sounds of the antique store’s heater… already he was settling into the boring, into the comforting feeling that comes with emptiness of the mind.
Is this why it’s said that ignorance was bliss?
“That’s at least one thing.” Laura spoke carefully, nodding to herself as if a little pleased before she continued on with her carefully crafted words, “Well, Cat Ghost, I suppose that for the meantime we’ll keep you up front with-”
“NO FAIIIIIIIIIIR YOU’RE MOVING HIM ALREADY!?” Jester whined out as he practicality fell to the floor in helpless defiance.
“Until we’re certain he can handle the other ghosts? Yes, Jester. We are.”
Cat Ghost had some feeling that it was for the better. As much as he enjoyed Jester’s company he still… felt like a lot to process. His outfit, his warmth… it was all a bit much despite how calming it seemed at times. At the least, based on the wording he’d probably get the chance to go back to being on that shelf with Jester at some point so there was nothing lost and when he was picked back up and dragged to the front of the store, for at least a moment, he felt a little warm knowing someone would miss him… and even more warm that he’d be seen…
A front window display.
Notes:
At the end of every chapter I have decided to include a small section of facts and otherwise unstated information that you may find relevant to the fic.
- We have met only two of the four Landia in this fic! Their names are Laura and Linda! The other two are Layla and Lydia!
- There are three more ghosts in the fic and they’re all saved for a little late (I NEED TO GET TO THE MAGORANZA CONTENT ASAP I’M DYING TO MY OWN SLOW BURN OPENING. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-)
- Jester doesn’t like sitting in chairs because they feel confining.
- Taranza's first appearance will be at the end of Chapter 4.
- This chapter took me around 3 days to get done. I started 3 days ago. As I am writing this I have become obsessed with Agnes Tachyon from Umamusume Pretty Derby but none of you will know because it is the last fact for this chapter.That’s all for this chapter! Thanks again for reading!