A couple Rider references. A few notes: Rider has two sets of eyes, and no mouth. Xe needs to inject hirself with nutrients in order to not die. Feel free to ask any questions to or about them!
There are two things I can’t write quickly: titles and endings. Have some soft sad lesbeans instead
It wasn’t often King did something out of boredom. Even rarer was it something she actually enjoyed doing. Her hobbies were eclectic at best, ranging from target practice to reading those kitschy fashion magazines sold by the convenience store on the corner. Her strangest pastime had to be her favorite though.
Many people would consider marionetting a dead art. From the puppets cold, glassy eyes, to the snagging wires of the control bar, it was hard to see the appeal of it. Unless you were King, of course. Set up in the middle of her apartment living room was a small theatre, complete with a simple backdrop and small curtains. King perched on the end of her couch, dutifully untangling and cleaning up her marionettes. It was clear that they hadn't been used quite a while, dust gathering on each one of them.
Truthfully, King wasn’t particularly excited to see them again. She loved marionetting, but her actions from before still haunted her. She hadn’t touched any of her puppets for that exact reason; even a whole year after, it still pained her to remember when she became a Seraph the first time.
Perched high above into the Earth’s exosphere, King wielded her control bars. The little oxygen up there did nothing to deter the fiery light surrounding her and all six of her wings. Her seraphine form took her legs and arms, leaving her with a hole in her chest, three sets of wings, and many sets of large hands. Said hands were surrounding her, all of them holding control bars, gold wires descending down to the Earth. King wasn’t sure how she could know, as she had no eyes, ears, or mouth, but she felt the expanses of her entire labyrinth. With the way her wings framed it all, it looked just like a tiny puppet theatre, the kind her father bought for her when she was little. Maybe that was it. Maybe all of this was some sort marionette set, and the only thing left was a puppeteer.
It seemed like she had been up here for years. Frost gathered on the tips of her feathers, yet singe marks marred the back of her wings. The halo hovering over King’s head grew into a heavy crown. “How strange” she thought, “the crown is nowhere near me and it still feels like a brick.” The sheer cloth wrapped around her did little to chase off the chill on her front or the heat on her back. Strings on many of her control bars had been cut, some completely broken off. The very perpetrator hovered in front of King, guitar strings ringing out a melody. She knew those strings, and she knew this puppet. It moved on its own, almost as if it has a mind of its own. It annoyed King, ruining the story that she knew how to craft best. The puppet struck at her, and King caught a whiff of lilies before centering herself. That puppet tested her short temper already, but King decided to spare her, such was the merciful god she was. She would tamp down this puppet’s strange will, and keep her strings wound tighter on it. Tighter than those guitar strings still ringing in her mind. With a large hand raised, and a blinding-
King came out of her memory slowly, like wading through molasses. Tears clawed their way down her face, stubbornly smearing across her cheeks when she wipes them away. Her breathing shuttered out in pants. Slowly, ever slowly, she evened her breath and relaxed, sinking into her couch. Suddenly, the smell of lilies permeated her mind, and finally King registered the hand raking through her hair.
Lilly stood in front of her, a worried look clear on her face. King’s face flared in embarrassment, until a gentle hand pushed a bag into her hands. It smelled fantastic, and King was struck with how hungry she was. The brunette decided to sit down next to King, and carefully took the blanket on the back of the couch to wrap around the pair. As she moved even closer, King didn’t say a word. Lilly didn’t either, until a few minutes had passed.
“Feeling any better?”
King nodded, her throat too clogged to speak. Instead, she focused hard on the bag in her hand. Lilly continued.
“Onika tried calling you earlier, but you didn’t pick up. She was gonna come check up on you, but she had to work late. She made you some coffee and stuff instead, though.”
Ah, King thought, that’s what smelled so good. When she opened the bag, there was indeed a to-go cup and one of the café’s handmade muffins. She took the cup and sipped out of it.
“Did...did anything happen today? You’ve been pretty quiet since I got here.”
King glanced at her, expression in pain. Lilly nodded and decided to flop down in her lap, careful of the goodies in the bag. The blonde above her huffed, while Lilly shot her an amused grin. Slowly, Lilly rambled on about her day; how she saw a cat when she went grocery shopping, and there was this sale on chocolate but it was only the really dark and bitter kind, and dark chocolate was kinda gross, and really Princy how do you even eat it it tastes like dirt. Eventually, King finished the coffee and muffin, and Lilly dragged her down to lay on the couch. After getting settled, the rest of the day was wasted on cat naps and cheesy daytime soap operas.
