Adomaitis & The Deep Dark Forest - SCP Foundation

I fall in love like a deer freezes in headlights: bloodied and beaten in the snow. I'll get back up, though. I know love is stronger than any other force in the world.

— "And this, will be your new quarters." —

Adomaitis sits between three galloping mares, almost crystalline in their white sheen. A hail of snow, so thick as to be audible, cascades down their path. When they look down, they are on the back of a moose, matted and brown — its breath coming out in frosty bursts, whereas the mares move with little effort.

They reach forward, placing their hand on the back of the moose's neck. They peek up from under their shapka, flinching as hard snow touches their eyeballs, getting caught in and around their eyelashes. In the distance, there is a single, unnaturally large, light.

"Adomaitis!" comes a harsh yell from their left. "Pick up the pace. We will leave you behind." The voice was rough, choppy — German? Adomaitis turns their head to look, and found the white mares now occupied by warriors.

On their left, a German imperialist of hazy allegiance. On their right, a premier in Soviet decoration, his ethnicity unclear.

And before the three of them, a hooded figure in black. From behind, Adomaitis could not tell who or what the figure was.

The three figures began to push further and further, drifting away from Adomaitis. Though they patted and kicked at their moose to increase it speed, it simply ambled along, its heart hammering like footsteps in the snow.

The front-most figure, the hooded thing in black, raises its arm. It reveals, beneath its long sleeve, a scythe of unusual proportion — almost like a sickle, if its blade wasn't so long. The German and the Soviet nod, and with a hasty growl, the three charge forward into the light, unseen.

"Go! Go, fucking animal!" Adomaitis screamed, kicking at their moose's sides. But with the last of their pounding to its ribs, they felt the moose's heart begin to flutter, then—

— they shifted in bed, shaking their head —

They weren't sure how exactly it came to this, but their arm had been crushed beneath the animal. They thrash and kick at the matted beast, its sweat moisture seeping into their injury, but to no avail.

They twist their head, hoping to see something of use. Another animal, a friend, even the figure in black, but what they see is even more extravagant —

— they tilt their head, a lopsided half-smile forming —

The unnatural light had revealed itself.

The castle of Cēsis.

A splendor of the old kingdom. Two stone towers, adorned in brown roofing, like a king's robe; between them, a mighty slab, composed of three brick buildings. From their windows, a white light shines down, illuminating the drawbridge, the water beneath it, and the snowfall, creating a dazzling reflection akin to the Northern Lights. Filtered through the cascading snow, it shifts and moves and spirals like smoke.

Adomaitis stares at it in a mix of wonder and desperation. The light is beautiful. The light is becoming covered by snow.

When they wake up, they are gasping for air, pushing away a blanket that had fallen over their head.

"Agne, it's good to see you again."

Simon Glass smiles thoughtfully at Agne Adomaitis. Agne stares back. "Good to see you, doctor."

Simon nods, steeping his hands on the desk. "I didn't think you'd want to do a psych eval ever again," he chuckles, "I understand that it was a rather hectic time for you. How are you feeling now?"

Agne shrugs. "I feel fine. I just need to talk."

"About your dream."

"Yes."

"Well, I see you're in a hurry — we can start now, then. Tell me everything."

Agne goes to great lengths to illustrate the fact these dreams did not belong to them. The exact experiences were familiar, not to them directly, but historically — but the ideas behind them, the howling force, was unfamiliar. They had read about this world's Agne. They were the same person, biologically, chemically, but fundamentally different. It was hard for them to blend in when they first got here. The only reason they got along as far as they did was because this world's Agne was dead.

"The only reason I got… listen, I'm getting sidetracked."

"Perfectly fine—"

"These dreams. Snow, wind, castles, mooses, fucking, whatever. I don't get it. These aren't my fears, or my ideas! It feels like. It feels like they're being beamed into my head. Like a ghost or something."

Agne digs through that howling force like it's snow, pushing away chunks of ice and frosted over wood. Looking for footprints that may have long been covered — trampling through the woods, wind brushing up and down their shapka.

Simon Glass nods contentedly, and begins describing thought insertion, a symptom of psychosis or schizophrenia. It sounds similar on paper, but it isn't at the heart. It's literally familiar, but fundamentally different.

Agne scowls and swears a little and leaves his office.

In the center of the lake in the center of the forest in the middle of the winter, a figure stands alone and still. Its hooves touch the swirling blackness that is frozen water — illusionary movement on still tides.

It looks down.

There's someone beneath the ice, floating freely like there is no ice at all. The figure stares down, and it feels the person beneath staring back. It grunts, trampling in a circle, before setting its sights on the woods — there's something it can find there, something to help.

"And this, will be your new quarters."

Simon smiles. It's the way Agne assumes that he smiles at particularly crazy subjects. "This kind of sucks." They say meekly, trying to assert some dominance.

"For now it's a little under decorated, sure," Simon steps ahead of them and into the room, "But we can start moving your décor once you get settled in. And look!" Simon gestures wildly with his entire arm, casting it through the ray of light and into its source—

"A window! Most rooms don't get to have these."

Agne raises an eyebrow. Indeed, their old room did not have a window. The outside view is nice — it's a deep dark forest. The forest, at least from this angle, was almost circular in shape, the way the trees leaned inwards against themselves like a crowd of people. Every evergreen tree was covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, and their nooks and crannies were full of owls, mice, squirrels, and other animals taking shelter for the winter. Way beyond sight, there was a wolf in a den, huddled around its pups; a bear in its cave, alone and big and sad; and, as always, there were personnel tromping through the woods, not leaving footprints.

The white outside matched the white on the walls. In fact, in the evening light, Agne wouldn't be sure where the wall ended and the snow began. It was all grey. They stepped forward and touched the wall.

"Nice, right?" Simon pipes again, standing opposite of them. He readjusts his circular spectacles and glances out at the woods. "The sun is starting to set — I know it'll take some time to get adjusted, but you'll be alright, I just know it. How about you get some rest?"

Then Agne lies down and stares at the ceiling for a long time.

Staring at the ceiling, their eyes kind of grey.

Listening to the howling wind and snow.

And the trotting of horses?—

The trotting of deer.

They look up from under the ground. It feels as though they're floating in ice, but they move through it as if it's air — and above them, transparent from their point of view, is the ground, with trees and birds and worms crawling all around.

They float aimlessly beneath the roots, back and forth, sailing or gliding like a ship in the sea. This is nice.

They drift with the wind through roots for some time, looking up at the moon in the winter wind. They dance on the light and shadows casted by leaves, moving up and down footprints, not yet covered by snow—

There is someone here. Agne can tell from a second set of footprints fading in from the darkness. They're more hooves than feet, in fact, two large buck-toes pressed in a buckled three-step pattern. There's a below-earth wind that pushes them up behind the pattern, like a stream. Something very powerful is leaving these prints.

They float peacefully in the power-stream, contentedly staring upwards. "Oh," they say quietly, some fear coursing through them — they see, in the wind and the snow, a billowing black cloak. This is the leaver of footprints.

Beneath the hood are two branching antlers, white like marrow and wide like sinew. The antlers grasp at the tree branches above, making them bounce back and forth under the snow — snow that falls over its broad shoulders, matting its long, brown fur. The snow dots across the white speckles already there, making a shimmering pattern like the Northern Lights.

For a moment, Agne floats underneath the cloaked figure, just staring upwards in awe. The figure stops, and peers down.

Agne freezes — literally, as though ice has solidified around them. The figure crouches low to face them, snow coming off their antlers in bursts. Underneath its hood, Agne can see its face.

It is not "deer-like," as much as it is exactly what Agne imagines a deer to look like — this was not a deer, but the deer, of which other deer were passively modeled after. Its face is almost a perfect tri-corner, from the tip of its round head to its long snout, two long ears standing straight atop its head, and its eyes are a glowing, bright white, unblinking.

It nods to Agne. "You are awake."

Agne takes a moment to find their voice. "Yeah. Uh."

The deer crouchs down, placing a hand on the ground. "There's someone trapped under the ice. They fell. Can you help me?" Agne looks back and forth, the deer's gaze pushing down on their head. "Uh, yeah, maybe. Yeah."

The deer waits. When Agne looks back at it, it points to the lake, beyond the snow mist. "There. I am coming to you. Please wait for me — and we will return together. Do you understand?"

Agne turns their head, and gasps. There in the ground, floating in a transparent manner the same way as Agne — there is a second, paler Agne, staring up at the starry sky, hands drawn to their sides.

"Uh, fuck, uh," Agne mumbles, looking around wildly. "Maybe we can meet somewhere else. A little farther away."

The deer shakes its head. "I have already plotted our course. I will come. I will be seeing you."

"Wait, for real—"

When they wake up, they are gasping for air, pushing away a blanket that had fallen over their head.

Glass leans back in his chair, tapping his pencil on the edge of the desk. "So," he props his feet up, "I heard you've been having a little bit of trouble adjusting. You've been neglecting your duties — I hope you understand that a mental health reassignment doesn't mean you're taking time off. You're just in a safer spot, you see?"

Agne stares at the ground, their knees together and their hands by their sides.

"If you're having trouble with something, you can tell me. I want to help you, but you need to help me help you. You see?" Glass smiles, leaning forward, across the desk to touch their shoulder. He smiles and shakes them. Agne nods.

"So — tell me. What's up?"

Agne tells him about their vision of the floating body, and of the deer, and of the forest and the ice and the impending meeting. Simon's smile fades. "I have — something to show you. Will you accompany me?"

Agne sits up. "Uh, yeah, I mean, sure. I mean, where are we going?"

When they leave his office, they walk down the long side of the Site. Simon knows people, they let him pass through gateways and security checkpoints; and they come to the morgue. It is cold. The winter outside is leaking in, little drips in the ceiling and cool breezes through the window. The morgue is naturally full of bodies, some moving, some not.

Simon leads them to the very end of the morgue, past all the big cabinets, and they stand together over a body on a table, covered by a tarp.

When Agne touches the side of the tarp, a spark of Humes emits a yellow light — a fluctuation in spacetime. When two beings, of the same essence, but from different worlds, touch — it creates a spark.

The card on the side of the tarp says the victim was rendered unrecognizable, frozen from the inside out. Almost pure crystal, it was. It was pulled from a lake past the forest.

Agne stands by the lake, staring into its frozen center. From here, the forest looks like a great summoning circle.

When they return to their quarters, they sit in bed and stare out the window.

The outside view is nice — it's a deep dark forest. The forest, at least from this angle, was almost circular in shape, the way the trees leaned inwards against themselves like a crowd of people. Every evergreen tree was covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, and their nooks and crannies were full of owls, mice, squirrels, and other animals taking shelter for the winter. Way beyond sight, there was a wolf in a den, huddled around its pups; a bear in its cave, alone and big and sad; and, as always, there were personnel tromping through the woods, not leaving footprints.

A white light shines down, illuminating their face. They close their eyes, lay down, their palms up — and wait.

They stand outside the dilapidated Site, frozen wind whipping through their hair. In the sky are several overlapping colors, like the Northern Lights, but all the way into the stars. Agne huddles into their coat, pulling their shapka down over their eyebrows. They shiver in anticipation.

There's a thunderous tromping past the tree line. Splitting the curved trees like twigs, becoming increasingly visible, even as it is covered in snow, is a mighty moose.

Agne steps forward. The moose, panting, comes before them in a short while. It stands before them, and they stare at each other, black eyes meeting black eyes

Agne nods curtly, and comes around its side; it curls its legs, lying on the ground, and they mount.

It stands, and they trample in a circle, before departing to the woods. The only sound is the rushing of wind and crushing of snow, billowing ice sheets knocking away branches and grey leaves and their eyelashes, getting caught in the moose's matted fur. But they continue, walking over artificial hills and through long stretches of barren ice.

Pushing through the snowbank, they come into the light. The moose cautiously steps forward, and there is a crunching — as Agne's eyes adjust, they see they are on a frozen lake. Below them is a darkness so black and swirling it is impenetrable. Above them is a snowstorm so violent and grey it is blinding.

Agne finds themself alone, standing on the edge of the lake. The moose has disappeared, and in the distance, they can see the deer. They begin their cautious approach, shuffling across the frozen water.

The deer looks up, its eyes lighting the way. They are white and unblinking, just as they remembered — it's. Gorgeous. They have to admit…

Agne finally comes in front of the deer, looking up at it. It stares back, and seems to smile. "Agne. You have arrived."

"Yeah, uh, it… it was a fucking. Weird journey to get here." Agne laughs a little, holding their shoulder. The deer nods, and gestures to the ground. "Let us begin." it says. Agne looks down, and sees the frozen, pale Agne, trapped in the ice. Their eyes are as white as the deer's, their mouth an expression of fear.

Agne kneels to face the frozen Agne. "Alright. Let's… get down to it. Yeah?" The deer nods silently.

Simon Glass walks briskly past security checkpoints and gateways and down to Agne's cell block. What they say is there is no window anymore, and the whole thing is filled with grey and snow.

And it was. They were right. Simon stands in the open doorway, one hand on his hip, one hand in his hair, staring out at the hole in the wall.

Agne picks through the ice, kneeling as they lift a pickaxe over their head once again. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. The deer paws through with its long fingernails, chipping away small blocks of ice. The swirling snow pushes down on them, but they keep going strong and steady.

"How'd you find this?"

"What?" The deer says, its ears perking.

"The— the thing in the ice. This other me."

"Mmm. They appeared."

"They appeared?"

"They floated up from the bottom of the lake."

"What the fuck? Oh. Okay."

Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. They continued to push and shove as the snow poured down their backs. The deer would watch Agne occasionally, the way their muscles pushed against each other — the deer glances back down, clawing away at the slippery sheets.

They are getting closer now.

Simon Glass trudges through the snowbank, clutching his wool hood tightly. He and a small band of agents leave a trail of footprints in the freshly laid snow. Under the canopy of the forest, the light looks like little summoning circles.

The first little smidgen of hair becomes unearthed, and Agne stares in shock. It's the same color as their own, but lightened from sun exposure. The pale-pink of the frozen Agne's scalp is almost visible as well.

The deer presses down on the soft ice around it. "Nearly… there." It grunts, pressing its thumbs into the deep cracks around it. Agne puts away their pickaxe and does the same, pushing ice particles with their thumbs.

"How…" Agne pants, "Did you know this was me?" they ask, their breath coming out as mist, joining the storm around them.

"I could tell from your face," The deer responds, cleaving away from the sheets. The frozen Agne's forehead is exposed now, and it flexes, as if having brainfreeze. "They're still alive," The deer says in relief, "We may have time yet. Quickly now, Agne. Quickly."

Agne rubs the grey tipping-hole, peeling away slow sheets of ice with their gloves. It made a sort of ticking noise, like a floorboard being ripped up. They grunted in continued effort, the deer joining their efforts on the opposite side; they began to make a spiral pattern around the frozen Agne, peeling away huge chunks in a slow, concentrated beat.

"Almost, almost," The deer whimpers, hauling a block away. Agne continues to chip away, almost too close to the face of their doppelganger, as the swirling darkness beneath begins to secede.

Simon Glass and his caravan approach the edge of the lake. There is someone in the riverbank.

The deer peels open a particularly raw hide of ice, peeling away a huge chunk of white-glass. The deer carefully reaches down into the black, feeling its hand around. Agne waits patiently beside it, waiting for their chance. They don't to get in the way of the deer's strange ritual.

Suddenly, the deer pulls up the frozen Agne's arm. With its free hand, it motions at Agne to stay back — slowly, it unsheathes the frozen second from the ice, piece by piece popping from under the sickly waves. As their pale body leaves the sea, they twitch and gasp like a fish. "Oh," They mutter, "Oh, fuck."

Agne watches in amazement as their clone is placed down on the ice, palms up. Their eyes are a milky white, but slowly, their gaze begins to return. The sun is shining through the mist and the snow and the trees and the ice.

The colors are beautiful, a swirling Northern Light. The once-frozen-Agne sees lights coming from windows in a castle — a castle of their people, they had almost glimpsed sometime ago. They mutter and thrash as the Agne-we-know and the deer steady their arms, leaving heavy cloaks on them, pushing a blanket over their head.

Simon Glass retrieves the shivering Agne from the snowbank with the grace of an EMT. Holding them under a heavy blanket, Glass pushes them into the arms of some unnamed agent and barks out orders to move back to the Site and bring them back to a cell that doesn't have a broken window, please, and move quickly.

So they do, marching back to the Site with some haste away from the swirling black they don't see under the lake.

The frozen Agne shivers and quietly mouths something about seeing themself, fully, for the first time — hoping that, "They're happy with where they are," and what a weird feeling it all is, and, "Fuck me, dude."

The deer holds Agne's hand, and together, they walk through the snow, no longer leaving footprints. Agne doesn't know where they're going, just that it isn't cold anymore. They smile because they did the right thing.

Hey there! Thanks for reading my RomCon entry for Doctor Jiqian does not match any existing user name. To check out the other RomCon entries, click here. What an exciting tournament this is, and here's to the next one. If you want to read this tale's sequel, click here.