THE DOLL

forget you ever had a child like autumn, mother, too brittle you thought, too much a reminder of the winter to come..

[drlingdoll]

dreamgvrls​:

laughter begets laughter, the edges of the room become more undefined until they are simply lying amidst a sea of bedding, a sphere of their own making. it is a place that exists for mere moments, “so now you know how it feels, it’s nice isn’t it?”

he is quiet for a while and she relaxes into the silence, allowing her body to rise and sink in gentle waves. her descent slower, more level from practice, “it makes things much easier for me.”

(who is she talking to? it is a truth that needs not be spoken, rather soaked in, until sensations dull and feeling are half-empty, drained of their insides.)

“mmm” a funny tickle in her through, reverberating, “that’s okay if you don’t remember.” they stare at the ceiling together until she is jolted by his movement, “why’d you move,” she whines, shifting, arms stretching out across his body, “i was comfortable.”

quickly, the world shattered—it rains down around her in glimmering shards. it is beautiful even in pieces. they are no where special, a duplicate room for a duplicate life, for a moment she sees everything clearly—where was she, why had she come here, each day more waiting, more promises, infinite hope—before the shade drops back over her eyes with a quiet hush. she pauses as well, turning over each syllable over in her mouth, “…i’m not worried about him hurting us.”

(he can, she’s seen the others. it’s possible, as are all things.) “if we make him angry worse things will happen. what we really want…” her voice wanders, a maze she has constructed herself, “we’ll never get it, no matter what we do. even if it’s right here,” she reaches for his hand, pressing her finger in his palm, eyes tracing the contours of his face, as if off in the distance, “he’ll make sure we can’t have it.”

He frowns in concentration, reaching out with the hand not tangled in her hair to grab for a falling star. His fingers close around empty air, but something bright burns through his palm, sinking under the skin as pulsing liquid warmth. “Yeah...yeah I guess it is pretty nice up here. Out here? Whatever, wherever this is, it’s nice.”

Another laugh bubbles out, too loud in the cosmic silence that settles over them. She shifts with him and briefly, for a glorious second, he is weightless and floating out of the anchoring grasp of this reality. Then, her mass returns all at once, and he’s brought back down into the welcoming comfort of the bed covers-turned sea foam frothing.

“Sorry,” he doesn’t sound anything close to apologetic, too busy contemplating if the lights swirling in front of them are distant bodies of the universe, or the eyes of creatures from the deep as they drift down-down-down, two bodies falling as one. Is this the drowning he’d predicted? Promised? His lungs aren’t burning yet, so he takes it as a good sign.

Air bubbles leave her lips, and he squints, chasing after them but missing every time he gets close. “What I really want he’d never give me anyway, regardless of if I make him mad or not, so why the fuck should I play nice.” Pressure against his too-short life-line draws him away from this newest of games, turning his attention to how her nail leaves crescent moons pressed into tanned skin. “If you know all that then stop letting him walk all over you. It’s no good, feeding his ego like that...”

[drlingdoll]

FOR: @bloodyinez DATE/TIME: 09/26 AM 1:45 LOCATION: the Dollhouse

Feathers are the main culprit this time—feathers and glitter, a classic combination meant to annoy the wearer and, what, entice? the viewer? Who even finds this kind of thing attractive? As though in answer to his rhetorical thought, the cheers coming from the audience increases in volume, applauding one of the other Dolls during a solo performance.

Rolling his eyes, he retreats backstage and into the wings, already working on disassembling the evening’s costume. At least he won’t have to go on again for another hour or so, not that Time means anything down here. And no doubt some emergency or other will pop up meanwhile that will demand a last-minute change in schedules, so, better make the most of his break while he can.

He’s weaving through the crowded foyer just beyond the seating area when he spies a familiar face. Oh what the hell. It’s not like he has anywhere else he needs to be right now. Sidling up with the practiced ease of someone used to navigating through spaces in between, dodging unwanted eyes, he joins her to take in the view from a spectator’s role. “Huh, I guess the feathers don’t look so bad from this distance. Doesn’t make them any less of a hassle. Anyway, you not escorting someone this time?”

[drlingdoll]

gryphon-gus​:

“I already am,” he replied, dryly. Dull and gray didn’t seem so bad after a while, better than all the neon lights and temptations of the underbelly. He hated all of it ; all of the deception that worked its way down here, from aesthetics to appearances. 

“Exactly. He doesn’t trust you, so he won’t suspect you,” Not immediately, anyway. But they could cross that dangerous bridge if and when they got there. “You just have to keep your eyes and ears opened for intel. Nothing else.” If Vin wasn’t indulging Zion with important information, all Zion had to do was find someone who Vin did have loose lips around. Or keep his ears pressed up against doors. “You’re a runner. You’ll know how to survive down here.” 

Gus nodded, eventually standing up from the cramped bed. “I have to leave now.” The last thing he wanted was Vin to spot him here, with a Doll no less. The private investigator rummaged through his coat pockets, eventually pulling out his business card. “Call if you need anything.” 

With that, he departed the room and the establishment ( knowing the risk all of this entailed ). 

FIN.

[arckhaic]

and sometimes my fairytales end with the dragon,           unmade.  & i never met a prince who didn’t look beautiful,       rotten. ( a little more like me.)

[drlingdoll]

rcdqueen​:

Alice is—or well, at this point it’s now was—entertainment enough that an air of satisfaction clings to her. In different company, she might try to hide that, but truth be told, in a place meant to cater to a certain brand of worst impulses, Mina hardly sees a point.

She doesn’t get off the way most of The Dollhouse’s patrons intend to, are, or have, but she’s satisfied in her own way, and that is perhaps enough for her—though it’s important to note that perhaps, if only because Mina isn’t quite sure anything is ever enough; it’s so hard to know where wanting ends, isn’t it?—so much so that she’d leave if she were only here herself. 

(This is, of course, ignoring that she’d never be here on her own in the first place.)

Instead, there’s an investor still being entertained and an awareness she cannot simply disappear without seeing him back to the Over and the supposed safety of a hotel room, least of all in times like these. With one investor dead and few answers—bullshit to call it suicide, most of all in her mind, that’s no answer at all even if the Tweedles say different—she won’t allow her queendom another loss, not so soon, not so easily.

Still, she can’t stand to stay still, so she wanders, rounding a corner carelessly with the confidence of a woman from whom the world bends, only the world does not bend. It provides a barrier instead in the form of a person—another doll, a cursory inspection betrays—standing in the way of further progress into The Dollhouse further.

“Oh for fuck’s sake—” The exclamation tumbles from lips fast and poison tinted as she stops short, spit out with a street kid’s edge rather than the glitz she covers herself in, but it’s that very same glamour that chokes the rest and stops her from saying the rest. Instead, she pauses, takes a breath and asks in a somewhat even voice, “Does Vin pay you to stand around, then? Seems like a waste.”

He’s running late, never a good way to start the night, and especially so since some big-name investor from Over has decided to come pay them a visit. Forget getting ready backstage, he’s going to have to start putting his outfit together as he goes. And if you think trying to pin his wayward curls into some semblance of order is difficult normally, doing the same while flying down the corridor ups the ante to an all new high.

So when a figure suddenly rounds the corner up ahead, cutting directly into his path and nearly giving both of them heart attacks, he’s not in the mood to play nice.

“No, he pays me to keep yours and every other rich nobody’s buddies happy when they come down here to get their rocks off,” the words are out of his mouth before he can consider whether or not being so directly insulting towards one of Over’s Queens is a good idea. His mother always did despair at his lack of a filter, lamenting that his short temper would get him in trouble sooner than later. Whatever, at this point, he doubts there’s anything worse these women can do to him that Under itself hasn’t already.

Plus, he’s late, and she’s in his way as much as he’s in hers. If she wanted polite, she could have started off better herself. “So unless you’re gonna pay me to entertain you this evening, Queen, excuse me ‘cause I got places to be.”

[drlingdoll]

gryphon-gus​:

Of course, it was a revenge plot. Gus had seen plenty of those instances around the city — crimes of passion ( of obsession ). Whether it be targeted at your ex lover, your backstabbing business partner, or any poor soul who managed to piss off the beasts of Wonderland. In this case, it was revenge against a wrongful brother — which is rather poetic or drowning in too many literature tropes. 

Gus blinked, not responding to his offer. Sex and business weren’t in his realm of comfort, nor did the private investigator necessarily enjoy the shady establish that Vin was running. “I’ll need money.” Cases took time, and effort, and he still had rent to pay at the end of the day. Gus managed to do cases in order of importance to his clients — which meant the paying ones got their deeds done quicker. It might’ve seemed cruel, but that’s the way things worked in Wonderland. 

“I can add your case to my pending list but … until then, keep a close eye on Vin.” 

The more information he had about his questionable informant, the more leverage Gus would have against the man that no one could dismantle. “You’re the first one to talk to me, but you won’t be the last.” Not when he considered how many people were trapped here, trapped and waiting for a way to escape. 

Perhaps this was the first crack within the Dollhouse that went undiscovered by the owner.

It’s really no fun messing with Gus. Maybe that’s a good thing in the man’s line of work—being a private investigator can be pretty grim he imagines, with little room for antics—but he still feels compelled to give a warning. “You keep pulling that long face, you’re going to get dull and gray real quick.” Unlikely it’ll go heeded, but that’s no longer his problem.

He pauses, arms raised to his hair mid-adjustment, and turns to level an incredulous stare at the man sitting on his bed. “You want me to be your spy?” Of all the ridiculous—there’s soft thud as he throws his hands back down to rest on the duvet, eyes never leaving Gus. “And just what do you think I’m gonna be able to get? Vin doesn’t exactly trust me y’know. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’m the last person he’d ever tell or show anything of use to, so if you’re looking for blackmail intel, you have got the wrong Doll for the job.“

“Don’t hold your breath,” he scoffs, loosening a few more curls shaking his head. “I may not like him much, and I definitely don’t like being stuck in this place, but there’s plenty of Dolls who do prefer this to the alternative. I mean, for most of them it’s work here or end up on the streets, so...yeah, lesser of two evils I guess.“

[drlingdoll]

FOR: @kingofentropy​ DATE/TIME: 09/27 AM 1:35 LOCATION: the Saturnalia, the Vitrine

To say that he’d been less than impressed when he found out that tonight’s event required him to wear a mask would be an understatement. He’s had enough experiences with masquerade themes at the Dollhouse by now to have developed a healthy dislike of them for being inconvenient at best. Still, those are the rules for the Saturnalia, and he’s only a Doll meant to do as he’s told when the price is right.

At least he was able to convince—pester—Vin to let him get away with a simpler design, something that would fulfill the requirements set, but still leave him enough room to breathe and see without unnecessary decorations getting in the way. So what if it’s not as opulent as the rest of the Dolls he’s arrived with, at least he won’t have to worry about sequins coming loose this time.

First chance he gets, he wanders away from the cluster of pretty things he’s meant to be grouped with. Curiosity guides him in the, perhaps unwise, decision to stray from the safety of the flock, and self-assurance turns a blind eye to the looks that his exposed skin and loose curls draw from guests. He’s heard tales about this place from others who’ve gone before him, and while the mask-rule is an annoyance, he’s quick to forgive and forget when he sees the size of the manor itself.

So much to explore—so many ways to get lost and swallowed by those who call these strange halls home—so little time. Slipping past a pale hand reaching out towards him, he darts down the corridors in search of...well, he’s not sure, but he’ll know when he finds it.

“Hey, Amos right?“ the hulking figure that dominates this newest room he’s stumbled into can only be one person, and with all the assurance of a boy too used to defying containment, he approaches. “This is a nice place you’ve got here. Kind of creepy though, but I guess that’s kind of the norm for Under. And what’s the deal with the masks?”

[drlingdoll]

FOR: @baihuas DATE/TIME: 09/20 PM 9:50 LOCATION: the Heart’s Palace

He doesn’t like being here. The flashy decor and heavy colors—gaudy—coupled with the general noise of a casino floor, are a poorly disguised reminder of what he’s run from tonight. Yes, the Heart’s Palace may put on airs of being a legitimate business, operating in Over as it does, and yes, it may wear a prettier skin than the typical gambling dens he’s used to seeing, but beneath it all, it’s no better than it’s Under-counterparts.

Not to mention the smell...wrinkling his nose as yet another overweight and over-dressed man passes by in a cloud of cigar smoke and expensive cologne, he makes himself as small as possible and darts his way through the small gaps between people.

It takes some time to navigate the absolutely ridiculous sprawl that is this casino’s layout, and even longer to locate the one dealer in this sea of many that he’s actually here for. The uniforms and similarly uniform appearance—how do they do that? creepy—of the employees makes each nearly unidentifiable from their peers, and he wastes several minutes peering into unfamiliar faces, looking for the right features.

Finally, he manages to track down Ivory at a table, though judging by the lack of bored rich folks waiting to lose their pocket change nearby, she’s wrapping up a game. Hopefully, it’s the last set of the night. “Hey! Your shift over yet? ‘Cause I found this hole-in-the-wall a couple blocks back on the way over, and whatever they’re cooking smells amazing. We should stop by there for a bite.”

[drlingdoll]

queeninwhite​:

She’s ramrod straight behind her desk, looking over her list of recent irritations and their possible causes yet again, when her next appointment arrives. Zion is late by her watch, but then, Time is ever elusive beneath the city’s cracked streets.

“Close the door and take a seat.” At first she doesn’t look up at the Doll entering her office, though when she does it’s with sharp, unfeeling eyes. A pretty thing, like they all are. She’s looking to see what kind of teeth the poor lost lamb has grown.

Leaning back just enough in her chair that she can look down her nose at her guest, she skips introductions entirely in favor of cutting to the bone. “I’ve been informed Clementine has spent more time at the Dollhouse lately, getting comfortable with a number of you. Your boss thinks I need to keep her on a shorter leash.” An irksome request, that. She expected her people to follow her orders to the letter, yes, but to get suggestions from elsewhere crossed a line.

“You haven’t been considering turning against the Dollhouse, have you?” Her voice doesn’t betray her innermost motives even a bit. Maybe she enjoys making the kid squirm. Difficult to say.

It’s far too early for him to be out and about, that’s what he decides when he yawns for what feels like the hundredth time and nearly stumbles into the wall turning a corner. No doubt the guard escorting him to Cerisse thinks he’s drunk or high off his ass on some substance. I’d prefer that to being sleep-deprived.

Ah well, his Time is not his own down here, and the whims of a Queen are not to be taken lightly, even if they are in Under. He does as directed and makes himself comfortable—as comfortable as one can get in close quarters to a woman who may as well be carved from the ivory she adorns her territory with—barely suppressing another yawn as the minute hand drags on.

“Hm yeah, I’ve seen her around,” he nods, absentmindedly twisting a stray curl around his fingers. There is something disconcerting in how she watches him that he doesn’t like. It’s not as though he is a stranger to having eyes on him, but the lack of inflection in her gaze is novel and he’s not sure he likes being pinned here beneath it.

The mention of Vin snaps him to alertness, tiredness driven away by the reflexive irritation that spikes whenever he’s so much as hinted at within hearing range. “My boss is a self-centered prick with an interest in keeping himself at the top of the dog-pile down here, so if he’s ‘suggesting’ you do something it’s not gonna be for your benefit.”

He sits up straighter, eyes narrowing as he stares back at her now. Queen or no, to deliberately try and interfere with one of Under’s most influential figures is a dangerous game to play. And she’s not wrong to ask, he has been quite open about his disdain for the Dollhouse as a whole. Still... “What are you getting at?”

[drlingdoll]

dreamgvrls​:

it had been months now—a life not unlike previous lives, cloistered, on display. nights of pink dreamscapes, their soft mouths opening lazily to engulf her; days where she is dressed and undressed, strings pulling her this way and that, tugging her from stage to floor. 

she had continued to wait, dutiful. sufficing on scraps of a life lived, a life lost. 

(it is a skill, rationing, to live through the dry seasons when everything is scarce. you lay stones for water, you bury what you can.) 

but he continued to press at the boundaries of it, knocking on the delicate walls she had constructed, a building made of glass panes, built high and towering. he pulled at the boards, saw their joints no matter how well she had concealed them. when is he coming, hmm? or did he forget, doll? a cruelty she sees in shards, one that she swallows. 

is this what makes her take zion’s hand as they tuck themselves out of sight of the guards? “it’s only been just a min—”  

just like that, he pulls her down the stairwell, she is tripping over herself following him—a hushed gasp caught at the back of her throat. it is unlike any time she has been allowed out: meandering, lost, a million paths unfollowed, arranging themselves in front of her like a plate of candies to pick from. he pulls her with a decidedly firm grip, a solid guide down streets she does not recognize, a definite route from start to end.  

they are still running as she gasps out, face flushed and hair a terror around her: “how do you know where you’re going?” placing a hand on his shoulder as they slow down, breathing in thin, long strokes, klara can hardly return his grin, “exciting? you must mean exhausting—after all that, i’m not exactly sure why i came with you, that was an awful lot of running. even more than when that theo comes along!” 

(when will you find your own path? when will you stop standing in once place?)

“what are we doing in a place like this anyways?” look around, nothing is recognizable. a mottled darkness, vague and undefined to untrained eyes like hers but he knows, perhaps better than he would’ve thought.

How does he know? His grin slips a little, wavering on unsteady legs before returning with a vengeance, stubbornly ignoring the implications of her question and his reality closing in. “Intuition I guess. I always did have a knack for finding my way around places.”

Nevermind that he is a creature of habit, and it is only through repetition that he develops his talent for wandering streets un-lost. These are details best not thought of, so he does exactly that, tucking them away in the furthest corner of his mind.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs, taking her by the wrist again and leading them forward at a more leisurely stroll. Perhaps he’s simply grown used to the running. “’Sides, what else were we gonna do all day before the show starts? Come on, it’s good to stretch the legs once in a while.”

Now that they’re far enough from the Dollhouse that immediate pursuit isn’t a worry, he takes the time to slow down and really take in their surroundings. They’re nearing the fringes of Under’s heart by the block, the buildings getting more and more decrepit as they go. This far from the bustle of those businesses that feed Under’s denizens, there are fewer lights to illuminate, and significantly fewer warm bodies to go around.

He tugs Klara a little closer, a silent warning for her not to wander off in the tightening of fingers around a bird-bone wrist. “Well, I saw something funny earlier from the Dollhouse,” the words comes out unnaturally loud and echoing in the quiet, and he lowers his voice. “Looked like a bunch of kids being herded somewhere by shady figures. Dunno what it means, but we may as well check it out, right? Can’t hurt.”

[drlingdoll]

thedollmaker​:

“it’s wonderland  —  the whole damn place is built from shit people with even shittier taste. ‘m sure you would agree, least when it comes to here.” a bark of laughter, sound scraped past blackened lungs and razored teeth. it is no secret that zion is less than fond of the place, but a doll is a doll and a deal is a deal, and there is nobody to blame but own kin’s foolish mistakes. 

easy, of course, to blame the maker. but the boy was a sacrificial offered to hungry wolves in an attempt to mitigate a human’s incompetence, and neither hold a fault in this arrangement despite how the little thing wishes to twist this story to fit his narrative. 

the city knows the truth, knows how you make beasts out of your own accord just to have this story be something worth reading. he does not particularly mind it. 

make me your monster, then. i’ll show you how i drip red from unhinged jaws, how mothers will whisper tales of caution instead of ones with happy endings when they tuck you in. 

“wonderland could eat me up ‘nd i’d be vile enough for it to throw me back up again — suppose there’s no gettin’ rid of me then.” he steps closer to zion at the offer, careful distance placed between them. touches no skin, even when he reaches out for the finnicky clasp the boy was struggling with. 

“lola it is then. i’ll have her sent to your room after work, under one condition: stop fucking feeding her all those damn treats. she’s gettin’ too used to ‘em and i won’t have it.” less bite in his words, busy trying to properly clip the headdress. “… fucking… never remembered it being this damn stupid. i really don’t miss the days of havin’ to parade ‘round with these.”  

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say,” he grumbles under his breath, trying not to cringe at the sound that comes out of Vin’s throat. Doesn’t matter how often he’s had the misfortune of hearing that poor excuse for a laugh, like some long-dead creature crawling up towards the light, it sets his teeth on edge with the unnaturalness of it all. “What do you care anyway? You’re making money regardless...”

Sometimes, he wonders if there’s anything that could bring an end to this place. The world outside could come crashing down over their heads today, Over and Under collapsing into one ruin, and still he feels like the show will continue to play within these hallowed walls—players and spectators alike tied to their designed places, unable to leave even with curtain close.

There’s no suppressing the shudder that passes through him this time.

“Pity, maybe if we cook you up real good she’ll keep you down long enough to digest you into nothing.” He doesn’t like giving Vin his back, but there’s no helping it when he’s the one who asked—demanded—assistance of the man. “Glad I can help refresh your memory then.” At least the Dollmaker knows better than to get his hands dirty by touching him; neither of them would like what that transgression might lead to.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” As a matter of fact, he does know exactly what is being referred to. His pockets and drawers are always full of various treats, and he knows which ones are which of the dogs’ favorites, something that helps him sneak out around them. “And so what if I do feed her treats occasionally? She deserves some loving since you clearly can’t be counted on for that, heartless bastard.”

[drlingdoll]

dreamgvrls​:

(Addict. That doesn’t sound so pleasant, does it?)

“I’m the bad influence,” a thing she cannot be, has not been raised to be; a prized doll, pretty, perfect, easily bent into the correct shapes, mouth sweet around the right words. “You’re the bad egg, everyone knows it. Not that I think that, but you know what they say, word travels.” Neither are good and neither are bad, merely finding their own ways of escape.

She goes tumbling forward as he tangles his hands in her hair, until she is laying there, a shifting gasp of laughter that vibrates through her and into him, head against his ribcage, legs extended into the air, blankets and sheets slipping off the bed. 

Watching from upside down—how fitting, how right—as he takes another, his face wrinkles around the taste, her chiding tone is that of a child leading another child; no one knows what is right; mimicry the only outlet. “What do you mean?” She stares at him, pupils dilated, straining, fantasy near bursting. 

(Death? No, that can’t be quite right. Sleeping, dreaming.)

(No, something else is waiting for her, a hope she cannot see but grasps for, body fading. The outline is something she can’t forget, the weight against her tongue.) 

“I don’t want to make him angry.” It isn’t exactly fear but rather reverence, blinded, childlike, the way a marionette dances on its strings.

He does laugh now, bubblegum blue and popping in all the wrong places. You’ll be picking the sticky-sweet residue off your lips for days to come. “Fine, we’ll both be bad influences then.” And maybe, in a way, they are on each other. He doesn’t mind sharing the title.

His vision starts to blur around the edges, and the ceiling seems to come alive, swimming with incoherent patterns he can’t make heads or tails of, so he lays there and makes believe he’s counting stars between the cracks. Her head on him is like a boulder weighing him down. All he wants to do is float away and meld into that painting come to life drifting so close at hand, but he can’t with her counteracting his inverted gravity.

“What do I mean?” A pause. A frown. The planets whizzing past spiral closer and closer, steadily down-down-down. What does he mean? What had he been saying? His mind is a mire of unfinished thoughts and incomplete memories, and trying to wade through the mess in search of coherency is a task far too challenging for his will at the moment. “I dunno...think the meaning got lost somewhere...maybe it drowned. Drowned?” Is that it?

He gives his head an impatient shake, flicking away stardust and asteroid fire as he does so. Nevermind that, it’s no longer important anyway. Besides, she’s just reminded him of a more vexing subject matter. Immediately, the laughter dies and is replaced by a scowl. “Hah! What’s he gonna do to us that he hasn’t already? Nothing, that’s what. He can’t hurt us or we won’t be pretty enough to sell anymore, and he won’t kill us until we’re no longer turning a profit. Dunno why you’re so scared of making him angry, he’s just a big idiot...”

[lxcuna]

BEHIND SANITY: the Oyster

take the plunge you say, and in this moment we may be likened to a completion                                                                 an exaltation

[drlingdoll]

gryphon-gus​:

Gus didn’t care about the comb and his hair looked fine, fine as it could when he was busy working all day long. Frankly, if you had time to care about your appearance in Wonderland — you were either being paid to do so or far too privileged. But that wasn’t the only twisted part of this place, not when it involved family selling their own siblings. There really was no day where he wasn’t surprised by this city ( and it’s despicableness ). 

“You want to find your brother, even though he sold you here?” Gus asked, wanting some  clarification. He could do his job, yes — but he wasn’t a family counselor or therapist that wanted to get involved with the rest of this drama. In which case, having all the details helped — like where to start looking ( diving deeper into the Under ). 

“I can find him, but I’ll need compensation.” He paused, adding, “And what do you intend to do after we find him?” The reality of the situation was that the young man couldn’t get away from the Dollhouse, even after finding the guilty culprit who put him in this unfortunate situation. 

“Yeah, obviously,” the words come out muffled, lips having difficulty forming the syllables around the hair-tie clenched in his teeth. He’s decided that the tangled bush atop his head is about as tame and sequin-free as it’s ever going to be, and the new task at hand is scooping the mass up into something resembling containment, a whole different struggle on its own. “Can’t just let him get away with this, y’know? I gotta return the favor, one way or another.”

The bun he finally manages to shove his curls into nearly comes undone again when he falls back heavily into the duvet with a sigh. Compensation huh? Well that was to be expected. Problem is getting the money to Gus without drawing Vin’s attention. Last thing he wants to do is dodge an interrogation over where he’s funneling what little he’s got in savings off to.

“I mean, I can suck your dick if you want?” he wiggles his eyebrows at the older man from where he lies, smirking. “I’m kidding. I don’t have much, but I’ll figure out how to get the money. Unless, you’d like a favor instead? Dunno what I can do for you cooped up here, but hey, it’s an option.”

As for what he plans to do with his brother...the smile falls from his face, curtains drawing over dark eyes sinking. “You don’t gotta worry about what comes after. Just get him to me, or get me to him, that’s all I need.”

[drlingdoll]

FOR: @dreamgvrls​ DATE/TIME: 09/15 AM 1:00 LOCATION: Under alleyway

“Come on, what is taking them so long to move?”

Patience is a virtue they say, and virtue is a grace. Unfortunately, he’s always been a graceless thing crawling, so waiting has never come easy, especially when it matters most. Time at the Dollhouse, learning to sneak out and about behind security’s turned back, has taught him better in two years than nineteen years of existence had prior to his fall, but it remains a struggle to ignore that itch urging him to run.

“They were supposed to change shifts a minute ago, why aren’t they clearing out?“ he shifts where they’re hiding, tucked into the corner behind a large potted fern. It’s a bulky piece of plain ceramic that looks like it’s barely containing the greenery over-spilling from the top, and easily big enough to conceal two small figures looking to avoid notice. “I swear if they don’t start—oh! Finally!”

The little side-street that the Dollhouse back door opens up into stands blissfully empty—only for a few seconds at most, just until the next guard makes his way over, but it is a window of opportunity he won’t let slip. Grabbing Klara by the hand, he practically yanks her down the stairs and around the corner.

“Let’s go!”

There is a familiarity to these twisted alleyways they race through that he doesn’t want to think about, a reality following too closely on the heels of that revelation: Under is slowly becoming his new home. He hasn’t given up on the surface world yet.

Eventually, he slows, turning to grin at his accomplice, original reason for this mission temporarily forgotten as the adrenaline rushes. “Well! How do you feel? Jail-break is pretty exciting eh?”

[dreamgvrls]

◒ - pantone edit # 99765F for zion and klara - template here

[drlingdoll]

gryphon-gus​:

Given that he was actually inside of Vin’s crooked establishment and caught inside one of the rooms — Gus was slightly paranoid that this would change the nature of their relationship. While Gus chose to look the other way in how Vin conducted his affairs, he didn’t want the other to think that they had other commonalities beyond what was already discussed — a strange arrangement in which both of them were simply trying to stay above water. 

“Good. Keep it that way.” The less Vin knew, the better. Despite that, Gus still didn’t know what to do — especially when the young man shoved a comb into his hand. The private eye blinked, not bothering to fix his hair. Not when Zion began to speak about his predicament ( about his wishes to find his brother ). 

“Finding dirt on Vin is like trying to catch ghosts. No one in the Dollhouse speaks against him, and if they do, they usually end up dead.” There wasn’t much justice achieved if the systems in place prevented keeping such innocent souls safe. And in a twisted way, even Gus understood that the desire for survival outweighed the need to bring down a big, bad man such as Vin. 

Still, he was listening. Listening to the cracks of the Dollhouse. 

“Your brother? Tell me the details.” 

He waits a few seconds longer before turning to frown at Gus, half confusion and half impatience. “What are you doing just sitting there? Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use a comb...” Even as he says it, his eyes find their way to the veritable nest that sits on top of the older man’s head, and much as he’d like to believe otherwise, part of him has to admit it is likely his incredulity might be well deserved.

“Okay forget it,” a sigh and he takes the comb, resigned to slowly untangling his curls on his own and hoping for the best where he cannot see the back of his head. As he works, yanking the wooden teeth through knots with a vengeance, he fills Gus in on what he remembers of his brother.

“Keep in mind I haven’t seen or heard from the bastard since he basically sold me to Vin to save his own hide, and that was a little over two years ago. He’s a lazy, spoiled brat though, which is saying something coming from me, so I’m sure he hasn’t actually learned his lesson and has managed to get himself into trouble. Again.”

A particularly stubborn tangle centered around a chunk of sequin distracts him momentarily, words devolving into muttered curses and promises to get a haircut soon.

“Anyway, he’s got just about every vice under the sun, and he’s terrible about keeping money in his pocket, so I’m sure if you just ask around Under, you’ll hear about some dumbass running up debts he can’t accord. For the most part, I don’t think our family has anything to do with him anymore, so he should be pretty isolated now. Could be easy pickings, if you get my drift. Anything else you need?”