Tradition's End (A Touhou Project Fanfiction)

The End of the Longest Day Pt. 1

Twilight reigned as night fell across the Forest of Magic.

Within the Margatroid household, all was quiet.

The kitchen was vacant, and so too was the workshop. No work would be getting done tonight.

Neither the rustling of pages, nor the crackling of logs in the fireplace could be heard.

That was not to say that the home was empty. No, it still boasted its one regular occupant, comfortably seated in her living room. However, said occupant was almost still as she sat, gazing into the singular candle that lit the room and cast misshapen shadows on the walls.

Only the rise and fall of breathing shook her frame.

The flame of the candle flickered and danced, proving that, despite its modest form, it still held all of the vim and vigor of one many times its current size. Full of power, and undeniably eager to achieve its maximum potential.

If only she could have felt the same in that moment...

...

Alice Margatroid was tired. In a way, at least.

Physically, she was only somewhat drained. Though still sporting signs of the battle that had taken place that afternoon, her body had already set about mending its injuries, helped along by the healing that Eric had stubbornly provided.

Mentally, too, she felt only minor weariness. The act of multitasking with so many dolls at once during combat did become tiresome as the duel drew on, but it was nothing that she hadn't experienced before, and it certainly wasn't the hardest duel she'd ever taken.

Emotionally, however, she was exhausted. Absolutely and completely depleted, with little to no capacity for much else.

It had been a rough day, all things considered, and dredging up the past had only served to amplify it. Everything in the moment had been far too much, to the point that she'd completely lost her composure and collapsed into tears. Like the draining of a wound, the old pain had bled forth, spilling onto the similarly shaken man at her side.

Perhaps it was lucky that they had found each other. They could empathize. They had both lost. They both knew. And it mattered.

It... was a bit of a disgraceful display on her part, but, as it turned out, she didn't care nearly as much as she would have imagined.

Truthfully, it had felt almost cathartic to share the burden of memory with him. To latch onto Eric and wring her heart of what sorrow she could, taking comfort in his presence and his willingness to care.

And now, while she did feel a little lighter, she also felt just the slightest bit numb.

...

It was a shame that he'd had to leave tonight.

'Work in the morning...' he had said.

...

Ah, well. He couldn't be faulted for maintaining his responsibilities.

And... that was not truly what occupied her thoughts at the moment.

No... All of this business with her grimoire... the focus on aspects of her life often withheld... the culmination of the entire day... It had all led her to feeling incredibly fatigued... and terribly nostalgic. So much so that, as she stared wistfully into the meager fire, her hands were occupied by a particular, familiar object.

It was a blue ribbon, one that a younger Alice had taken to styling her hair with. It was worn, a consequence of its extensive years of service, yet it was still luxurious to the touch. As she slowly brushed her fingers against the fabric, she indulged in its rich texture. She would have described it as velvety, had the material of its construction not been superior to velvet in every way.