a/n: This little story had been sitting unfinished in its own word document for far too long, so I decided I should try and flesh it out properly. I like to think there's a bit of Silent Hill influence in here, but it's probably best for you to decide.

[ファサード]

Madotsuki's journey through the snow world is one of her more tedious ventures; bitterly cold, as obvious as this might sound. Her fingers and toes have been numb for a while, and she can feel the last traces of warmth she's managed to preserve seeping out with each step she takes, knee-deep in undisturbed frost. Regular clothes aren't suitable for this kind of exploration, even in a dream — the knit scarf and hat previously obtained just turned her into a snowman the first time she put them on in here — so she's stuck with the clothes she woke up in.

Suffice to say, the igloo she stumbles upon is a welcome sight, even if it's initially not all that inviting. The opening is so small she has to get down on hands and knees to fit inside, and dragging herself along the icy earth brings a fresh sort of sting to her already numb skin, the whole front of her body smeared with cold wet mush. Once she's inside she has to crouch to avoid bumping her head on the hard-packed ceiling. When her legs give, she's relegated to scooting forth on her backside, self-conscious and flustered despite her solitude.

There's a pool of pink fluid in the center of the room that holds her attention. Steam rises from it, melting the snow in a near-perfect circle. It's a disgusting combination, this cloud of humidity amid the frigid air, but Madotsuki doesn't think twice to dive in; feet first, pinching her nose.

The liquid is unexpectedly thick around her body, coalescing until it maintains a consistency similar to gelatin. Her nerves tingle with sensation again. She claws her way out to find herself on a sandy plateau. Around her is a lake of semi-transparent fluid, and the air is permeated with thin, silvery vapor.

Madotsuki walks for a very long time while a thin layer of sweat accumulates slowly under her clothes, until she finds another balloon. It's pink, but faded. More like an eraser, or a wad of chewed-up bubble-gum. She touches it, and there is a brief flash of light. When she opens her eyes she's dismayed to find herself up to her waist in the pink stuff. It's not painful-just thin and warm, a bit like bile. She wrinkles her nose at the sensation and wades as quickly as she can, listening to the sound of her legs swooshing through the goo for minutes on end. She keeps her eyes peeled across the rosy horizon, because she has a feeling there will be a trick to escape, probably involving another balloon. She smirks triumphantly as she spots the familiar shape, a blot of green in the pale pink sea. Upon touching it, there is another flash of light.

She's back on land, but sopping wet and uncomfortably hot. There is a purple building before her, oddly conic, surrounded by similarly shaped rocks. Madotsuki enters, unsure what she'll find, hoping that whatever it is will be better than her previous situation.

The room within is small, somehow just shy of inviting despite the warm colors thrown into relief by a single lamp, bare-bulb. The floor is bare, covered up inadequately by a modest rug. The walls are painted in rich earthen tones and streaked as if to imitate the texture of wood-grain. It's painstaking detail. Madotsuki is surprised when she reaches out and feels stone beneath her fingers.

"Hey," says a low voice.

Madotsuki jumps, turning on the spot.

Before her stands a girl, with beautiful green eyes and pale hair, frail-limbed. She is fresh-faced, yet somehow ancient; her hair wispy around her head, silver-white. She looks like she's never left the house.

"Hey, don't be shy," the blonde girl drawls, and her voice is unlike the rest of her, slow and rich, reminiscent of something from those old American movies Father used to love. "Do you have a name?"

"Madotsuki," Madotsuki responds, nervously. Up close, the blonde girl reveals a set of white teeth, sharp and slightly crooked. "Poniko."

Even her imperfection is beautiful. It's been so long since Madotsuki's seen another human face that all she can do is stare.

The blonde girl evades her gaze with a casual shrug, a tilt of her head. "You can stay if you like, I guess. I wasn't going to do anything special today."

"Thank you." Madotsuki bows out of habit, and to save a little face.

She spends the next few minutes sitting on the floor and dripping pink stuff, with a thick, fluffy blanket draped around her shoulders.

"I'm afraid that's all I've got," Poniko says, and soon joins her, crossing her legs. Madotsuki keeps glancing around at the room. There's hardly any furniture. A single bed and a dresser, a table and wardrobe, all pressed together in a linear fashion.

Oddly, the wardrobe has no mirror, just an empty frame where the glass should be. Upon further reflection, there isn't a single surface in the room that could serve as a mirror's substitute. Madotsuki can't help wonder why. It would probably be rude to ask a stranger. But before she can feel bad about encroaching on the other girl's home, Poniko breaks the silence:

"Why are you here?"

It's probably best to stick to the truth.

"Huh? Oh, I…well, I was dreaming."

"Okay," says Poniko, as if such a statement is common knowledge. "Why'd you come here, though?"

Madotsuki knits her brow, tight-lipped for what feels like minutes under the other girl's gaze. "It looked safe," she decides.

Apparently Poniko's never heard that one before. "Huh," she says, squinting a little. "You really think so?"

Madotsuki can't help but feel she's being toyed with, and scowls at the other girl.

"Hey, I'm not making fun of you," Poniko says airily, "I was just curious."

"Can I ask you a question?" Madotsuki blurts, trying to be angry and coming closer to teenage petulance.

"Sure," says Poniko.

"Why don't you have any mirrors here? Don't you wash up in the morning?"

"Nah. No one comes around here very often." Poniko chuckles. "It gets boring sometimes, but I can usually keep myself entertained."

Madotsuki frowns. "But you're so…."

"So what?" Another toothy grin.

Madotsuki realizes what she is implying and quickly looks away. "Never mind."

"What? Am I supposed to impressing someone?"

"Well, uh. Not unless you wanted to." Madotsuki can't help but laugh at her own weirdness. "Sorry. It's been forever since I had someone to talk to. I'm kinda out of practice."

"It's okay if you don't want to talk," Poniko says, with a slight, unmistakeable shift in tone and body language. "I'm not used to starting conversations, either."

Poniko is looking steadily at Madotsuki, but her eyes don't roam. Like she's waiting for her to make a decision.

And suddenly Madotsuki just wants to be wanted by someone else, to be touched by the only human being she's seen in weeks.

How different can it be in dreams?

"Okay," she whispers.

Poniko's grin wavers and she momentarily turns to surprise, then becomes sly. "I'll get the lights," she says, and saunters over to the light switch. She makes a show of walking there and back. But Madotsuki's attention is drawn to the something behind her, tailing her like a shadow but far too large, undulating upwards.

Her brain short circuits as Poniko pulls her into her arms, but the thing doesn't make a sound. It just watches from the corner, its face chalky white and the texture marbled like raw meat, surrounded by a black, undulating mass of…something. The black part twists and writhes, but the white face is motionless. Its eyes are inky slits, and its mouth slants, displaying an emotion somewhere between distaste and amusement. Madotsuki's grown used to seeing these kinds of apparitions, but she can't help but stare at its grotesqueness.

"What's wrong?" Poniko asks, voice low.

Madotsuki realizes she's still staring at the creature, and mumbles: "Something's watching us."

"Uboa?" Poniko offers it a carefree glance and nothing more. "He's nothing to worry about." She lifts her head, murmurs: "Want me to take your mind off him?"

Madotsuki nods uncertainly. There's the grin again.

"Lie down."

She does so, and Poniko takes her in with the utmost care.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asks, in all seriousness. Madotsuki looks away, wishing the other monster wasn't here.

"I…I don't want to talk about it," she mutters. "Is that okay?"

Poniko's lips are gentle upon her brow. "I don't care. Whatever makes you happy." She sounds genuine.

But Uboa is still there. There are other eyes, too, some animal and some human, others indescribable, on the furniture and floor and walls, distributed with all the care of a four-year-old with a glue gun and a fresh packet of store-brought googly eyes.

"This is about you," Poniko murmurs, fingertips dancing along the hem of her sweater and up her arms as if to memorize every contour. "Nothing else."

Now the fabric seperating skin is gone. Poniko has hands and a pale mouth, and she uses them, trailing down of her guest's accord.

"Is this okay?" spoken against her naked leg, with eyes trained upwards.

Madotsuki's voice cracks. "I, uh. Y-yeah."

They meet in the middle. Madotsuki closes her eyes tight and both hands wind in the other girl's hair; Poniko grunts appreciatively, just as Uboa's mouth curls in an unmistakable smile.

Madotsuki wakes up alone, in her apartment, and cries for the first time in weeks.