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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 10, 2009 22:14:31 GMT -8
He carried her in. The realization dawned upon him that it had been..a long time since he had cared. He believed that he had never cared. Sure, he cared about 66 and 27 in some way, but it was different. Not as vulnerable. 66 was beautiful, and he perhaps loved her, but it could only ever be from a distance. (Much to his chagrin) He could never be around either of them enough to form a true bond.
She felt so fragile in his arms, so drained. She was, he realized, noticing her oil that was still smattered all over her blue fabric, obscuring the stripes in some places. It was pathetic and sad and terrible. He relived it even now, so soon..Her scream, the oil..The fight with Donnie..The horror that he ended up pushing his claws further into her fragile body. Trying to save her while she slipped through his fingers like grains of sand..The ghastly, haunting green behind her eyes, threatening to leave her..just a small and empty husk. 70 furrowed his brow sharply. Donnie would pay.
70 entered his abode in The Shambles - a dark, lonely place. It must've once been a medical office for the animals of the zoo - it still smelled faintly of chemical cleaners. In the far corner, though, he had set up. A modest home, draped and fashioned from deep blue curtains. The interior was unimpressive. A few ratty pillows that didn't match and his work 'table' on the opposite side. A small and cloudy glass beaker of water was near it, as were shreds of old rags. Spare medical tools - needles, tweezers, thread, and small knives - were orderly under the table. At the moment, the table was clear. Which was probably for the best.
Gently, 70 lowered 17 onto his pillow that was in the best condition, depressed at how weak she was still. He grabbed a rag and returned to sit with her, tenderly and attentively wiping her oil from her hands.
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Post by 17 on Nov 10, 2009 22:40:15 GMT -8
17 looked at 70 as he cleaned her hands. She had no idea that the stains all over both of them, all this black...that it was from her tiny body. She knew that some of it was from her, but not all of it. She watched the oil permanently stain the redwood that was her palm, but it easily came off her copper fingertips and joints. It being oil as well as her blood, it loosened her joints and made them slightly easier for her to move.
17 winced in her sitting spot though, her back, how it ached. She wouldn't be able to reach behind her and feel the stitches that 70 had then added thanks to Donnie nearly killing her, tearing through her back and ripping off her number. The only last bit of her number was on her right shin, that was covered in oil. She could feel that pain all over again from Donnie. She couldn't see any of it because of the blindfold, but it may have been best that she didn't see it. Feeling Donnie rip through her several times, she collasped, and then she didn't remember anything after that. The next thing she saw was the 70's back, he was cradling her and it sounded like he was sobbing. 17 wasn't able to feel any of the new stitches on her skin or any bit of her new skeleton bits that 70 had worked so hard to replace.
She looked around the home weakly, but it was all that her tiny optics would allow. She flickered her eyes to Catalog it, engraving it permanently into her memory. Using that in itself was tiring and using a lot of slowly regained energy. She looked down to her fatherly figure cleaning her hands again, finally deciding to speak up.
"I..Isssssss that m-myyyy oil....?" She asked quietly, afraid that speaking too loudly would drain her even more. She noticed the tear on 70's face. "D-Daadddyyy...you have a rip on your face..."
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 10, 2009 22:57:36 GMT -8
70 looked up at her when she spoke, and answered with the restraint of emotion in his voice. "Yes." Her body was so small..so weak. Even though he'd played the medic for her on numerous occasions, that revelation hit home now. He finished cleaning her hands and folded the rag neatly after wiping his own with less care. "I may have some solvent to help get the oil out of your fabric. I'll look into it later." he said softly..then realized that he was stroking her hair without thinking about it.
Embarrassing, 70 sprang up. He walked a bit away and untied his apron, then pulled another off of a stack he'd made. This was precisely why he wore them, too. Doctoring was messy business. "Are you comfortable?" he asked of 17. He wanted her to feel as at-home as possible. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that she was not a Rogue..And that she didn't know he was. He didn't want to tell her. Would it change things? Would she leave him? "..Need anything?"
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Post by 17 on Nov 10, 2009 23:19:25 GMT -8
The white faced doll smiled a little when she felt his hand touch her head. To her, this was at least a movement of acceptance, and she enjoyed the fact that this was making her feel wanted.
The child listened and nodded at the question about her comfort. This was actually the most comfortable she'd been since she could remember, if ever. The only other building she'd been to was the Cathedral when she had awoken after the Dragon tore her apart and the Mystery Doll put her back together, and the only place other than that was the Emptiness.
She shook her head no at if she needed anything, she felt fine other than the new scars that couldn't be removed. If she did need something, she didn't know what it was. She didn't know much about the Stitchpunk anatomy or body, but since she was around a medic now, she could possibly learn and work alongside him, or look around for a few medical books and read, if they were around. She had the ability to sew, although she never got a chance to really use it before.
17 looked at 70's current expression on his face; something wasn't right besides her being hurt and recovering from the incident earlier that day. Whatever it was, it was bothering him. She didn't want to bombard him with too many questions, so she kept quiet.
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 11, 2009 8:50:04 GMT -8
70 realized that she'd point out the tear on his face. The pain hadn't gone away, but he'd pushed it out of his mind during everything. He reached his copper hand to the tear, feeling along it to see just how bad it was. He sighed. Another stitch to his face, the only place on him he really didn't want to have stitches.
17 shook her head in a "no" to his question, so 70 went to pick up a fragment of a mirror he had and propped the shard against the wall. He quickly stitched himself up with white thread, which would be less obvious.
After he was done, 70 returned to 17's side and sat down near her. 27's words echoed in his mind..
Don't die, child. Your father needs you.[/color]
70 tried to hide a tremble that shook him to his very soul. So much emotion all at once. Furious anger towards Donnie, draining heartbreak, silent gratitude for 27, and 66 for comforting him. Anxious worry. Time to come clean.
"17," he addressed, then paused with difficulty. "I don't know how much you know about the divisions of ragdolls..But I feel you should know that I'm..Well, I'm a Rogue."
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Post by 17 on Nov 11, 2009 12:14:34 GMT -8
17 silently sat, listening to 70 tell her the truth. Her optics widened in shock, she'd only heard about the Rogues. She only heard about the ragdolls' divisions, but she had no idea where she would fall. Since she had awakened in the Cathedral, Savior territory, she figured that's what she was. Although, mentally, 17 didn't know where she fell on these lines.
Even if 70 was something that she wasn't, she didn't care. She couldn't even if she tried. In her heart, if a ragdoll could physically have one, 70 was still her "Daddy." And running away from him after all he'd done for her would be absurd. That thought tried to enter 17's mind, but she never held onto it. In a way it went into her mind on one side and went out the other.
Since 70 was telling her the truth, she decided to tell him as well what she knew, and what she was. It was still hard for her to speak, but she spoke at a normal volume.
"I-IIIII've onlyyyy heard a....abouuuuut themmmm...IIII don't kn....know muuuuuuuch..." She admitted, and kept silent a moment, trying to regain a bit of energy. Her face's expression changed from shock to sadness. If she was different, would 70 throw her out? "I..I'mmmm a..." It was harder for her to admit than she thought. "S-SSSSSavvvvviorrrr..."
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 11, 2009 13:26:39 GMT -8
70 held her hand lightly. He guessed that she was a Savior. "I know." he replied, sounding more like it was an obvious fact rather than a confirmation. It wasn't that big a deal for him. Her alliances were hers, and he found that one could easily be civil to ragdolls of all alliances if mutual respect was present. And, as a doctor, he was as indiscriminate as possible with who received care.
"I tell you because..Well. I do things that aren't 'good'. I'm guessing you intend to stay with me. I'm just warning you that I am not the great man you think I am." 70 squeezed her hand. "If you stay, you will inevitably see me in a less than flattering light. Do you understand?"
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Post by 17 on Nov 11, 2009 13:44:52 GMT -8
She looked down to his hand that was holding hers; it was twice the size of her own. She noticed that there were still some smears of her oil on his hands. She lowered her "sleeve" on her free arm and wiped it clean, staining her skin even more. 17 didn't mind the stains on her fabric, she was grateful enough to even be alive at this second.
She looked up to him as he spoke, explaining about what would happen if she stayed. She understood clearly, nodding, although she decided to ask something.
"...Li-like whaaaaaat...?" She asked, curious about the "Bad" things he did. Before she gave him a chance to answer, she asked him something else. Surely nothing would be as bad as the incident that day."Would youuuu wannnnt h-heeelllllllp...?"
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 11, 2009 13:55:00 GMT -8
"..." 70 didn't know how to answer the "like what" question. What was he supposed to tell her? That he defiled graves and used parts of long-dead ragdolls in his practice, that he was manipulative and selfish and broken? That he built weapons and devices for the Rogues to use against others? That he remembered the number and face of the doll who once had the arm and leg 17 had now?
"..I don't need help. If you would like to help me, though, I will welcome it."
He watched her sweetly wipe the excess oil from his hand that held hers. All that pretty blue fabric stained..
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Post by 17 on Nov 11, 2009 14:16:13 GMT -8
She kept her gaze at 70, nodding. Helping him was the least that she could possibly do, especially after all the times he'd helped her, including this time. She continued to look at all the stains on her fabric, a look of shock returning to her face. All this on her and the apron across the room, it was hers.
Because of Donnie.
Because she fell for his trick. She played the game. She got hurt. So much for trying to get out of her shyness. It just shoved her further back into those shadows.
But she was alive.
She flickered her eyes at her new arm and leg...She never got a good look at them yet. They were mismatched compared to her original limbs. It made her feel...fake. These parts weren't hers. They weren't a part of her. She would only be able to jump with her original limb, since it was spring-equipped and she could jump insanely high. She couldn't notice her other leg, did it have a spring too? Or was it just a leg now? It would take a good getting used to.
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 11, 2009 15:30:41 GMT -8
The medic couldn't help but feel terribly sad when he say 17's eyes flickering at her new limbs. They were far from a perfect match - and the leg didn't have a spring like the real one, he knew, and she probably wouldn't be able to use that skill again..One leg was salvaged, but it wasn't much use without the other. Maybe he could try to replicate it one day. He didn't say anything, though, not wanting to raise her hopes if just to dash them later.
"..I'm sorry." he whispered sadly, not really knowing why he was apologizing. It had to be done. There was no choice. But still..He was sorry. Sorry that this little ragdoll had had to endure so much..So much.
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Post by 17 on Nov 11, 2009 15:58:42 GMT -8
"..I'm sorry."
17 had her attention ripped from her new limbs and looked back up to 70, seeing the sadness on his face. She hated to see him sad. It was just as painful to see him so upset.
"F-Fooorrrrrr whaaaaaat...?"
She got her hand out of his, putting them to her side and trying to ease herself up. She got herself to her knees and paused. The pain, oh the pain...it was getting to be too much. She tried her hardest to raise one leg and then the other to get herself up. After trying so hard, she succeeded.
Her being so small...she was 70's height when he sat down. She put her new leg to the side, turning around to face 70. She took a tiny step forward, tripping a little, but she regained her balance and wrapped her arms around 70's neck as tight as her weak body would let her.
"T-Thaaaaaaaaaannnnnnk yo-youuuuuuu D....Daaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyy..."
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Post by vega777 on Nov 11, 2009 16:27:07 GMT -8
((Is this a closed thread?))
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Post by ╝ Sinner ╚ on Nov 11, 2009 17:51:54 GMT -8
(It doesn't have to be. If 17 doesn't mind, I don't mind. What did you have in, er, mind? (Used the word "mind" too much))
It was heartbreaking. He watched her struggle to get up, when by all means she needed to be laid up for days, and stagger over to him to wrap her weak little arms around his neck..and thank him. 70 chose not to scold her for being up when she ought not, and instead crouched down to hug her back, squeezing her with care.
He must have been a father when he was human. There was no way he could possibly have such emotions if he hadn't been. For a fleeting moment, he wished that he could remember..
70 didn't say anything, but gently herded 17 back to the pillow. "You need to rest, seventeen." Her number sounded smooth and pretty when he said it. Much better than "kid".
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Post by vega777 on Nov 11, 2009 17:55:23 GMT -8
(Not much, actually. Just 667 coming in and asking if 17's all right. If 70 mentions "saviors" she'll ask who they are.)
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