Oc-tober Prompt Responses: Days 11-15
First | Prev | Next | Last Okay. So. I know that October is over. And I am fully aware that it is currently November 18th. But hear me out: I want to see this through to the end. I've had a lot of fun working on these, and I think it would be a shame to stop where I'm at simply because it's not October anymore.
With that said, here are my responses for days 11-15! Just as it was before, the prompts are from @/stormyth-art's 2024 and 2025 OC-tober prompt lists!
And one more thing - Day 15's prompt is a sequel to the one I wrote for Day 7's. While it's not necessary to have read Day 7's prompt first, I would say that it does provide a bit of context.
Day 11: Fairytale AU “I do believe there’s something wrong with me.”
Demiastle watched as Palice looked up from his chessboard, blinking in surprise. “I – I’m sorry, what did you say?” “I said – I think there may be something wrong with me.”
Palice folded his hands together, giving Demiastle a thoughtful look. “...In what sense?”
“...In the sense… that I might be cursed,” Demiastle hazarded. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be having this conversation with Palice of all people. But then again, who else would he come to about this? If anybody else had experience with sort of… issue, it would be him.
Palice looked him up and down, only to snicker at him (Demiastle scoffed. The audacity of this man sometimes, honestly…). “I’d think it would be a bit more obvious if you were.”
“Not all symptoms of a curse are visible, mind you,” Demiastle scolded. “You should know.”
Palice’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe that I’m aware of what you mean…”
“Allow me to jog your memory. Prior to meeting your wife, you said that you kept hearing a voice calling you into the woods.”
“Yes, that’s… true. But what of it?”
“And you eventually made the decision to follow it, thus leading you to a tower where a woman was being held captive. That woman would later become your wife, but only after her sister found out about you and cast a spell on you that made you blind, leading to you wandering around like a vagabond for three days. The only reason your sight was restored to you was because your future wife–” “Persimmon.” “...What?” “Her name,” Palice repeated with a wistful smile, “Is Persimmon.” “Yes, well – Persimmon got moved by her sister into a swamp filled with thornbushes. One that you just so happened to blindly wander into. And poor Persimmon was so distressed at your state, along with her horrendous living conditions, that she cried on you. Which just so happened to cure your blindness… somehow.” “Yes,” Palice agreed. “All of that is true. But… how did that make me ‘cursed’, exactly..?” “Don’t you understand?! You had to have been cursed in order to be willing to go through all of that! And for a woman that you barely even knew–!” “It was all mere coincidence,” Palice countered. “Had her sister not happened to be a witch, I imagine I would’ve helped Persimmon leave the tower without any trouble. And we would’ve gotten married without me having to go missing for three days beforehand, as well.”
“Oh, really? Then what about that voice you heard?” “...It was probably from a benevolent force of some kind,” Palice muttered. “One that had wanted to help Persimmon. I… will admit that I don’t know what it was exactly, but–” “So it could’ve been anything?! Like a ghost, or a fairy, or–”
“Well, yes! As I said, I don’t know.” “...Hmph.” Demiastle turned his attention back to the chessboard, thoroughly displeased. This conversation had gotten him nowhere… “It’s still your move, Palice.” But Palice didn’t pick up any of the pieces, instead preferring to continue looking at the man in front of him. “...Demiastle.”
The brunette in question let out a huff. “What?”
“...Are you hearing voices telling you to go somewhere?” “...Well, I – I wouldn’t say that the problem is hearing voices,” he explained. “It’s – I have… these dreams. Every night.” “Since when?”
“Since… It started four months ago.”
“And what do you dream about?” “I keep dreaming about this – this woman. And the dreams often involve us doing things such as going on walks, having tea, sitting and talking… everyday things anyone might do with someone they were close with. And every time that I wake up I have this… impossible sense of longing…” Demiastle tried not to wince, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the chessboard. Even now, just discussing what he had been going through started to put the most horrible ache in his chest.
“...And I take it that you don’t know this person at all?” Palice asked, trying to catch Demiastle’s eyes. He had a soft, sympathetic look on his face.
“...I don’t,” Demiastle said quietly. “I’ve never seen her a day in my life. But I can recall her face as clearly as anyone else’s. And I have this… intense urge to go west until I find… something.” “Well in that case,” Palice started, “I suggest you get going.”
Demiastle snapped his head up, indignant. “Are you insane?! What would you suggest a thing like that for? Would you like me to end up blind and stumbling around somewhere, too?” “Demiastle–”
“It’s asinine. Absolutely and completely asinine. I won’t be going anywhere, thank you very much.” Palice snickered again, and it took everything in Demiastle not to leap across the table and sock him in the nose. “We’ll see.”
---
“...My prince…” Demiastle huffed, trying (and failing) to ignore the voice whispering in his ear. It had been only a week since he had spoken to Palice about his… condition, and the curse had only grown more persistent. Now, besides his dreams, the ever-growing urge to move west, and the worsening, near-constant sense of having someone missing from his life, he was hearing voices. Voices that told him to go and find someone. Voices that demanded to know what was taking so long. Voices that asked if he even cared about who he was meant to find. And a voice that sounded an awful lot like–
“...I’m waiting…” …Like the woman from his dreams.
Demiastle sighed as he petted his horse’s mane, trying to remain focused on the hunting trip he was supposed to be on. But that was pretty hard to do, with how his princess kept– No! No. She was not “his” by any definition. She was just some apparition made up by his mind in an effort to entertain itself, or was some trifling spirit sent to torment him. Not someone tangible. He was far better off trying to ignore– …There was a clear path to the west of him. Perhaps, if he were to ride through there– Stop it! Demiastle had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from saying that out loud. Once the pain had passed, he leaned forward and pet his stallion along his neck. “Tell me, Accipieter,” he muttered, addressing the steed, “Do you think I’m losing my mind?” The horse only let out a quiet whinny in response. “Hm… yes, I suppose you’re right. Asking a horse for his opinion on the matter certainly doesn’t bode well…” He chuckled to himself as he looked up. His knights and the rest of the hunting party had gone a bit of a ways ahead of him. If he were to slip off now, perhaps he could– “Yes, you should do it! Go. Go down the path.” A different voice spoke now, one of the ones who tended to be much more insistent about him going on a journey. “What would be the harm? Nobody will notice. And who knows, maybe your princess isn’t as far away as you think she is.”
Hearing that, Demiastle knew exactly what he needed to do. He took hold of Accipeter’s reins, and carefully drove the horse…
…In the opposite direction.
“Are you KIDDING me?!” One of the other voices howled in his ear. “TURN. AROUND! You can’t keep DOING this!”
Demiastle ignored the voice, carrying on. That one tended to scream at him a lot. But he knew by now that after enough time, she would eventually leave him alone— “If you do not act now, the princess will die.”
Demiastle froze, tugging on Accipeter’s reins and stopping him mid-trot. “...What?” He spoke aloud despite himself, his utterance a quiet expression of confusion.
“The princess cannot sleep forever,” the third voice continued. “If you do not wake her soon, she will be lost.”Demiastle remained still, watching as his knights and the other hunters disappeared into the distance. Was that voice… talking about the woman from his dreams? Was she really more than a figment of his imagination? And if so…
Was it true? That she would die if he didn’t go to her?
He stared down at the grass, completely torn. On the one hand, there was a decent chance that he would be the one in the ground if he followed along with what those voices asked of him, with what his feelings demanded. But at the same time, if there was even a chance that woman was real, and that her blood would be on his hands if he didn’t act…
…The way forward was clear. He grabbed hold of his horse’s reins once again, and directed him back toward the path that they had left earlier. And once they had started on it – “Hyah!” He commanded the horse to go faster, and the stallion whinnied again before breaking into a gallop.
---
Demiastle anxiously clenched his jaw as he continued forward, his stallion’s pace having slowed to a tentative walk. He had lost track of how many hours had passed since they had started down this path, and was uncertain of how they would get back if need be. The trees seemed to shift and change places regularly, and whenever he turned around the path behind them only looked more and more blocked. It appeared that there was no going back, now that he had chosen to take this course of action. And naturally, the voices he heard had stopped providing guidance, now that he had done what they wanted… Perhaps that was the nature of this curse. It doomed him to a life of being lost alone in the woods with only a horse for company, sentenced to wander down a solitary path until he found a princess who might not even exist.
What a way to die.
He huffed, wondering what would become of his kingdom. He was an only child, so it wasn’t like there was an immediate relative to give it to. And his cousins were all irresponsible and dim-witted. The only good thing about one of them inheriting the throne would be the fact that it wouldn’t take long for one of them to come to power, once one was chosen. Demiastle was supposed to be coronated as king next week, so most of the preparations would already be there…
That hunting trip was meant to be a brief moment of reprieve, and nothing more. And now look at the mess he was–
Accipeter let out a sharp neigh, and stopped in his tracks. Demiastle tried to encourage him to move forward, but to no avail. The horse neighed again and raised up for a moment in stubborn defiance. Demiastle let out a sigh. “Oh, what has gotten into–” He paused, seeing what the problem was – a set of thorny vines slithered along the ground, sharp and imposing. Not to mention how they were horribly dangerous to walk on. He blinked – they weren’t there a moment ago… No matter. It was just another obstacle that needed to be overcome. “You wait here.” He pet the stallion’s neck again before sliding off of him. Once he had gotten down, he drew his sword, a long, smart-looking rapier. “Now let’s see…” He took a few steps forward, carefully maneuvering over the vines – only for them to recede at his presence. …How curious. Regardless, Demiastle took this as a good sign. He returned to his steed and mounted him again, and carefully had him move forward – only for the horse to stop again a few yards later, and entire wall of vines sprouting out of nowhere and blocking the way.
And this time, they didn’t recede when he dismounted and approached it.
“…No matter,” he muttered to himself. He drew his sword again, opting to cut the vines down instead. And that seemed to do the trick; the vines slinked back to whence they had came after the first slash.
But Demiastle didn’t get back on Accipeter. Instead, he led him through the woods by the reins, keeping his eyes peeled for any more vines. And while there were a few issues, he was ultimately able to lead them both deeper into the forest without much of a real problem.
But then he saw it.
The trees had parted enough to reveal a large, worn-out castle. Thick thorny vines of green and purple coloring wrapped around the walls and windows, scaling up towers and creeping into crevices.
He tried to get closer, but Accipeter stubbornly refused to move. He couldn’t blame the steed — the flora here looked awfully hostile… “Alright,” Demiastle said to the horse calmly. “You don’t have to go any further.” I get the sense that the rest of this quest is for me, and me alone… He carefully tied Accipeter to a nearby tree, making sure that the stallion had enough room to move around a few feet in each direction if and when needed.
He then began to walk toward the castle (after giving his trusty mount a few pets on his mane, of course). None of the vines moved as he got closer. But that wasn’t a concern. For one thing, the door to the castle had been left open, the vines spilling along the floor in a way that left it mostly walkable. That, and there was something more pressing that caught Demiastle’s attention.
There were guards here.
But they weren’t moving.
In fact, they paid no mind to him at all. They laid quietly on the ground, their bodies limp and lifeless. Demiastle shivered. Were they… dead? He dared himself to get closer to one of them, only to pause when he heard something oddly reminiscent of snoring coming from one of the guards.
Were they just… asleep? Out here in the grass and vines?
Unsure of what to do, Demiastle called out to them. “Hello?” But there was no response. Not even when he raised his voice, or shook them in an attempt to make them stir. They remained thoroughly and completely asleep.
Despite becoming disturbed by such an encounter, Demiastle pressed on — only to be met with more sleeping servants inside the castle, all of which remained still in their slumber no matter any attempts to wake them. A shiver ran down his spine. What on Earth could’ve been the cause of all this?
But then he remembered.
The princess cannot sleep forever. If you do not wake her soon, she will be lost.
That warning that voice had given him — did it apply to all of these people as well? Would they perish if the princess wasn’t found?
…He had to keep moving.
So off he went, walking past dozens of dozing individuals. He passed by rooms full of them — a few were in bed, while most had seemingly been attending to whatever work they had before dropping right where they were. The whole situation was intriguing, but there was no time to stop. That urge to go west had now shifted and changed into a guide of sorts, directing him down hallways and up staircases.
All until he found himself in front of a room. One whose door was covered with thick vines until he stepped toward it. The vines receded back much faster than the ones in the forest had, as if they had the sense that Demiastle was supposed to be there more than they were.
The longing he had felt earlier had only grown more and more intense as he traversed the castle, as if he had come this close to having something he had wanted for years, only to have it taken away from him at the last second. But he also got the sense that if he opened this door, things would change. He and his princess could be together for as long as they wanted, with nothing and nobody to separate them. No mysterious slumber, no strange dreams as their only means of interaction. But if only he knew for sure—
My prince! You are so close…
Well, that was all the confirmation he needed. Demiastle took hold of the doorknob and turned it, carefully opening the door with a loud creak. It clearly hadn’t been touched in ages, now old and rusting at the hinges with vines starting to encroach on it.
But the inside was what was truly worth looking at.
Even though so much of the castle had been reclaimed by nature and filled with eerily sleeping inhabitants, this room was different. The inside hadn’t been desecrated by so much as a single vine, and there was only one person resting there — a beautiful young woman, with black hair that went just past her shoulders and a face that Demiastle had seen dozens of times before, despite never having met her a day in his life.
It was the woman from his dreams.
He approached her gingerly, like the sound of his footsteps potentially posed the threat of rousing her. He rested a hand on her face as he stood next to her bed, her breathing even and quiet. “…My princess,” he whispered softly. “I’m here. I’ve come to be with you at last.”
“Well it’s about time!”
Demiastle snapped his head up, recognizing the voice he had just heard — it was one of the ones that had kept trying to get him to come here, the more pushy and insistent of the three. He looked around, trying to see where it had come from, but he didn’t see anybody around. The only thing that looked out of place was a trio of small, brightly colored lights floating around in the air. He stared at them, confused. Those weren’t there a moment ago…
But he found himself with no time to thoroughly question it, as a bright flash of light obscured his vision. He was blinded for a moment, panicking for a second. But his vision soon returned to him, and Demiastle let out a sigh of relief — only for puzzlement to seize him once more, as three figures stood in front of him. And that perplexed sense turned into dread as he realized that each of the figures had pointed ears, unnaturally bright eyes…
Wings.
Demiastle made himself narrow his eyes, standing up straight in an attempt to look intimidating. He knew a fairy when he saw one, and he was not one to be trifled with. “And what could you three want?” He asked, not willing to let his guard down even for a moment.
One of the fae scoffed. “Wow,” she said, her voice sounding eerily like the one he had heard just a few moments ago. “That’s rich. And after all we’ve done for you, too. You wouldn’t even be here without us, you know that?”
Demiastle froze, a chill running down his spine at the fairy’s words.
Had—
Had he been listening to a bunch of fae this whole time..?
He thought he might gag at the thought. To think that there was a fate worse than being cursed that might befall him…
And to think that he had stumbled right into it.
But not all hope was lost. The fae didn’t have his name — it wasn’t like he spoke much to them outside of the occasional “Be quiet” and the “What” that had escaped his mouth earlier that day. So perhaps—
“Anyway, Demiastle,” the female fairy said, interrupting his thoughts, “Let’s try that again, yeah?”
Demiastle stared at them, dumbfounded. “You — You have my name?”
“Uh, yeah? We know all about you, dude. We spent an entire week trying to personally convince you to do this quest, and a whole four months doing magic on you. Why wouldn’t we know your name?”
“…”
Demiastle went silent, unsure of how to respond. But before he knew it, he muttered a string of swears under his breath, an awful habit he’d had since his boyhood that had a tendency to come out during instances of severe frustration. “Relax,” the fairy responded, snickering. “We’re not gonna use it against you or nothing. If that’s what we wanted, we would’ve done that a while ago.”
Demiastle sighed. That was a fairly decent point. But still… “How do I know that I can trust you?”
“Sheesh, you humans are all kinds of skittish, you know that? But since you’ve such a scaredy cat, I guess I can see about giving you something of mine. Then we’ll be even.”
“Hardly,” Demiastle rebutted. “I can’t do anything with whatever you give. But you can already do everything to me.”
“Oh, fine. You have my word that I’m not going to try and screw with you anymore than I already have. Deal?”
Demiastle pondered this. The word of a fairy was as good as gold — for them, breaking a promise was a sentence that guaranteed some sort of unpleasant consequence, whether it be something as small as a brief dizzy spell to something as large as death. “…I suppose,” he answered. “But what about your companions?”
“Ugh — you are so difficult for no reason, you know that? Dynamo, Caret. Promise you won’t mess with him.”
The tallest of the three, the one Demiastle guessed was “Dynamo”, nodded in agreement with a sigh. “Fine, fine.” Demiastle recognized his voice as the more encouraging of the three, the one that was the most encouraging in trying to get him to set off on this whole journey he’d been on. “Demiastle, you have my word that will not harm you from this point on.”
“…You have mine as well,” the third fairy, presumably Caret, said. He was a young man with blond hair and shiny purple eyes, and his voice was easily recognized as the voice that had warned him of the princess’ approaching demise.
“…So what do you want with me?” Demiastle asked again, his tone much gentler now. He… got the sense that they were trustworthy enough, at this point. Most fae would have laughed at the thought of promising him anything, or would have already used his name to force him into doing their bidding. “We want you to wake the princess up,” Dynamo explained, smiling. “Well, I’ve gathered that much. But… how am I supposed to do so, exactly?”
Dynamo’s smile grew into a smirk. “You have to kiss her.”
Demiastle balked hard at this, blinking furiously in shock. “Wh-What?! I can’t just – I can’t just kiss some woman I’ve never even met–” “Oh, cut the crap. You’ve met before,” the first fairy snapped. “You’ve met dozens of times. What do you think I mentioned us doing a bunch of magic on you for? Did you really think all of those dreams you had were just ‘happenstance’ or something?” Demiastle became quiet again, contemplating this. He ended up letting out a sigh, and that was enough to prompt the fae into continuing. “So you guys know each other pretty good – she’s been having the same dreams you have. So it’s not like you’ll be kissing a complete stranger or something.”
“Yes, but – still,” Demiastle protested. “She’s asleep.” “Yeah. And she’s gonna stay that way if you don’t kiss her,” the first fairy supplied, starting to grow impatient. “We didn’t invest all this time into dragging you out here just for you to choke at the end. So I suggest you get it together.”
“...It doesn’t necessarily have to be on the mouth,” Caret murmured. “All that's required is a kiss.” “...I see…” Demiastle sighed again. He… supposed a kiss on the forehead would be alright, in that case… But then a thought occurred to him. “Is there a reason why it has to be like this? Wouldn’t it make more sense to do something like shouting her name or shaking her, or–” “Look, punk. We didn’t cast the curse on her. We’re just trying to fix it,” the first fairy hissed. “So stop whining about how things don’t ‘make sense’ or whatever, and do something–” “Kai,” Dynamo interrupted, addressing the leader of the group by name. “Be patient. We’ve come this far, and it’s not like she’ll die in the next few minutes.” “So?! Why should she have to wait anymore? She’s been asleep for a hundred years! Isn’t that long enough?!” Dynamo and Kai continued to bicker back and forth, while Caret silently watched them. All the while, Demiastle stared at the princess, feeling something like remorse welling up inside of him. She’s right, he thought. You have been asleep for long enough. He leaned down carefully, brushing the hair covering her forehead out of her way – and, gently, placed a kiss on her face. As soon as he moved back, the princess started to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she took a moment to look around, seemingly confused – especially since the fairies were still arguing. Surely that must’ve been a strange thing to wake up to… But her face softened when she saw Demiastle, her countenance brightening. “My prince,” she said quietly, taking one of his hands. “You have taken such a long time to come here!” “I know,” he whispered sheepishly, the wistfulness inside him easing at last. “And I’m so very sorry about that. I would have come sooner, but–” “It’s okay!” The princess interrupted. She laughed and looked over at the fairies – who were still quarreling with each other. “They’re not the easiest people to work with. So I understand.” “Ah.” Demiastle flushed a bit. “So… was I the only one kept in the dark about all this..?” “Maybe,” the princess teased, laughing again. She sat up slowly, and Demiastle was quick to help her up. “Although, there is… one thing that they didn’t tell me.”
“What is it?” “What happens, now that I’m awake?”
Demiastle thought about this for a moment, still holding her hand. “Well,” he began, “We could… pick up where we left off, in a sense.” Perhaps all those dreams really did come in handy, after all… The princess beamed at that. “That would be lovely! I would like for you to meet my parents, anyhow. I’m sure they’re awake now, too…” Demiastle gaped a bit – did that mean everyone he had seen on the way up had been cursed, as well? Had the only way to wake them been to wake the princess? “That’s how this all works?!”
The princess giggled, amused. “Yes! Oh, they really didn’t tell you anything, did they?”
“Of course not. Trying to get anything out of those three was like pulling teeth…” The princess snickered yet again, and Demiastle felt himself blush harder. He didn’t think that was a sound he could ever get tired of… “Oh, well! That’s alright. At least we’re together now–” The princess paused, pursing her lips. And then her expression changed to one of panic. “Oh – Oh, my goodness! All that time together, and we never gave each other our names!”
Demiastle put a hand to his mouth – but rather than being horrified or surprised, it was his turn to laugh. “That’s–!” He could hardly speak, he was laughing so much. But once he sobered: “Demiastle,” he answered. “My name is Demiastle. And you?” “Woya,” the princess replied in kind. Demiastle held her hand a little tighter. “That’s a beautiful name.”
That mission would be successful. And as a result, several over a decade later, said princess and said nobleman would allow their daughter to attend an event, one with Palice and Demiastle’s children in attendance – an event that would end with two of the children hiding in a kitchen pantry, while a certain evil spirit was sealed up in the castle’s walls, a punishment for three separate counts of attempted murder.
But that is a tale for another time.
~~~
Day 12: Playing an Instrument*
Plink Plink Plink Twang– Snap! “Oh, blast it all! No’ again!”
Katherine walked toward Newbert’s room, somewhat intrigued by the odd noises that were coming from it. It seemed like Newbert had been trying to fix something all morning, but it didn’t sound like any of the more mechanical objects that he usually worked on… She stopped at the doorframe, and then carefully peeked inside. Newbert was sitting on his bed, fiddling with some sort of long, wooden object. But his back was to the wall, so Katherine couldn’t really see what it was. She took a few steps forward, curious. But some of her steps weren’t as quiet as she had hoped, and it was only a matter of time until Newbert turned and saw her. “Hey, lass!” He smiled at her when she let out a squeak in surprise. “Ye don’ ‘ave ta sneak around, ya know,” he teased. “Ye c’n come take a look if ya wan’!” With a little nod, Katherine walked to him and looked over his shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw what she was working on. “It’s – It’s a… a guitar?” “Aye, lassie! I learned how ta play one, a long while ago. Bu’ I ‘aven’ ‘ad the chance to fer a while. ‘Till I found this beau’y on me way ‘ome from work las’ nigh’!” Newbert beamed and held up the guitar to show her. The compliment he gave it was well deserved: it was a brilliant light beige color, with the back of it being dark like mahogany. And strings were a bright yellow, like gold — but one of them was broken, snapped into two different parts. “I t’ink whoever t’rew it ou’ did ‘at because a few o’ the strings ‘ere broke. Bu’ ‘at’s nae a problem, lass! All the strings c’n be replaced as needed.”
Katherine’s eyes widened in surprise. “R-Really?”
“Aye! I was tryin’ ta do ‘at, bu’ I can’t seem ta ge’ t’is one righ’...” He flicked at the broken string, frowning at it. “I jus’ can’t figure ou’ wha’ I’m doin’ wrong…”
Katherine gave the guitar some serious observation. While she didn’t know much about string instruments, she had always wanted to play one. So she was aware of a few things. And it didn’t take long for her to see what the issue was. “Most — Most guitars I’ve seen have the strings decrease in size when they go this way,” she said, pointing to the right of the guitar. “B-But — But the one you put on seems… too sm-small.”
“Oh!” Newbert gave the guitar another once-over for himself, and untied the now broken string. “T’ank ye, lass! I didn’ realize t’ere had ta be an order to it…” He soon replaced the string with a larger one. Although, Katherine thought that one looked a little too big. But… perhaps she was just seeing things? Newbert was an expert at repairing things after all.
And she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and be a bother…
After a few moments, Newbert stood up with the newly fixed guitar in hand. “Alrigh’y, Kat’rine! Are ye ready fer a concert?” Katherine nodded eagerly, and took a seat on Newbert’s bed. “Okay, t’en! ‘Ere we go!” He started to play the instrument, and it became obvious that he wasn’t lying about having experience with it: the strumming was light, yet intense, and he was able to figure out where to place all of his fingers without needing to look down at it. Although… some of the notes did sound a little off, as if something was wrong with one of the strings… Eventually, Newbert opened his mouth and took in a breath, as if he were about to start singing. Katherine sat up straight, surprised – she didn’t think Newbert was the type to sing! She was just starting to wonder if he would sound any good, only–
Twang!SNAP!The string Newbert had just put onto the guitar broke, with the longer half flying and smacking him in the face. Katherine put a hand to her mouth in shock. Perhaps that was the wrong string after all. Newbert blinked for a second, stunned. A red mark lingered on his skin, and he winced when he went to touch it. But then he said what was arguably the most appropriate phrase for a situation such as this: “...Ow.”
~~~
Day 13: OC That Dies*
As Petra locked the door, there was only one thought that echoed through her mind: WG-251 is never going to forgive me. And indeed, he had already started banging at the closet door, yelling in a panic. “Petra?!” He jiggled at the doorknob, to no avail. It was amazing how one could jam a lock from the outside. “PETRA! Petra, don’ do t’is, please!” She bit her lip in an effort to keep herself from talking. She knew that she’d run out of time if she lingered to calm him down, and she knew that also carried the risk of being convinced to join him in that closet. But at the same time, WG-251 deserved to hear something from her. If she didn’t make it back, then—
…With that in mind, Petra said the only thing that she had time to say, and she meant both words of it: “I’m sorry.”
She took off afterwards, hearing WG-251 desperately scream her name again. She wanted to turn back, longed to, even, but she had something she needed to take care of.
She hurried toward the front of the factory, where she found quite a few of her sisters mobilizing toward the doors. Good. They would need all hands on deck if they wanted to beat the Arcadians back — or at the very least, keep them from getting any further.
Marsha slinked up to her, surprisingly calm despite the circumstances – just as she always was. “I was able to get a glimpse of them from the roof, before we knew for sure that they were Arcadians. They’re all wearing red.” Petra balked at that, immediately understanding the implication. “Red? But – But that would mean that they’re Fefnir’s men!” Marsha pursed her lips, nodding. “Sure seems like it.” “What – ugh!” Petra tossed her hands up. As if the fact that the Arcadians were trying to get in wasn’t bad enough. “This factory’s in Harpuia’s court, isn’t it? And we were under Leviathan’s jurisdiction. What, could they just – just not be bothered to send some of their own people or something?” Marsha raised an eyebrow at her. “...You say that like it would be any better than this.”
“Well, at least they would be open to negotiation or giving us a trial or something–” A loud banging came from the door. “Crap – okay, just make sure that–” “Marsha!” A loud shout caught their attention. Both of the sisters turned to face it, and there stood WG-257. “Marshie, I’ve been looking for you–” “WG-257!” Marsha cut him short, running over to him. “What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be hiding with the others–”
“But I want to help you! I – I love you, Marsha. I’m not going to just let you get – get hurt. Not without me here at least trying to protect you…” “I don’t want you to protect me! I want you to go somewhere safe! That way I don’t have to worry about you!” “I’d rather be in danger and by your side, than safe and knowing that you could be hurt or worse all by yourself!”
Marsha froze, her eyes wide – all while Petra silently watched the conversation with a heavy heart. She knew that was how WG-251 had felt, too. And yet, she’d gone and made the decision to make him hide, to force him into safety. She had thought, as soon as she had come up with the idea (she knew he wouldn’t be one to willingly hide, if he knew what she was going to do), that it was the right thing.
But now, watching Marsha take hold of WG-257’s hand, she wasn’t sure if it was correct. “...257,” Marsha whispered, looking tenderly at him, “I… I want you here, too.” A small smile came to WG-257’s face, only for it to fall as she continued. “But we can’t have that! Because the fact is, the members of my line are better suited for–” BANG! SCREEEECH! The terrible sound of the factory doors being pried open made the whole room fall into a hush. Too late, Petra realized as she looked at WG-257 and the dozens of other members of the Westman Gate line still scattered around the room, as she thought of how many dozens more were running around in other places rather than waiting in a hiding spot. It’s too late for that now. The door continued to screech and squeal, and eventually, something was visible from the crack made in between them. A dark red eye peered at the reploids inside of the factory, before the doors were forced open completely. A lone, tall automaton with a doglike face gave the factory workers a hard, long look of cold disdain before speaking. “Mavericks!” The unmistakable low growl of Anubis Necromancess came from the reploid’s maw. “Prepare to become one with the dust of the Earth – the very same dust your creators came from.” Petra narrowed her eyes, staring at Necromancess. She was directly in front of him, only a few yards away at the most – a whole centuria of soldiers stood behind him, with dozens of pantheons after that. She took hold of the pistol she had taken from one of the guard mechaniloids when she and her fellow workers had taken control of the factory. “...Not if we make you dust first,” she spat after a moment. Necromancess let out a bitter laugh, amused. “You can most certainly try, my dear,” he replied, smirking. “You can most certainly try.” And try she did.
~~~
Day 14: Pajamas (2024 Prompt)* (Note: this response contains depictions of bullying and verbal abuse, as well as implications of past bullying. Reader discretion is advised.)
“I fail to understand the purpose of such a garment.”
Persimmon stared blankly at the clothing on display. She had always found it odd how customers, clothing stores, tailors, and society as a whole would invest so much into something so… unnecessary. After all, wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply change into the clothing one intended to wear the next day before going to sleep? It was an excellent way to save time, even if it was only for a few minutes.
“Are you referring to the pajamas?” Palice asked, pointing at a set of the folded up clothing Persimmon was looking at.
“Is that what the clothing humans specifically change into at night is called?” Palice nodded in confirmation. “Then yes. That is what I am speaking in reference to.”
“Oh — well, they’re meant to make sleep more comfortable,” he explained. “And comfort is an important part of ensuring restful sleep… But I am curious; why did you say that as if humans are the only ones who wear such things?”
Persimmon blinked a little, surprised. “Are you saying that reploids wear them as well?”
“Of course! We require comfort during recharges just as much as humans do during sleep. I have a few sets that I’m fond of myself…” But then Palice paused, an expression of alarm coming to his face. “Persimmon — are you saying that you don’t have any..?”
“…Yes,” Persimmon replied, starting to feel what she identified as… “unsure.” She had thought that it was commonplace for reploids to not have such things. But had she been mistaken this whole time? Or was Palice in the wrong, and was it only appropriate for service reploids to have those things?
“Then — Then what have you been sleeping in?” Palice asked, still surprised.
“…The same clothes I usually wear,” Persimmon supplied, not knowing how Palice would react at this point. “After they have been sufficiently disinfected, of course. It would be a serious act of negligence to potentially spread diseases via my clothing.”
“I… see…” Palice pursed his lips, looking unhappy. But Perismmon still didn’t understand why that was the case. She hadn’t said anything that would suggest something was wrong in any way. “…Are you intrigued by the way any of these sets look?”
“…I… suppose that this one with the various hearts on it is… ‘cute’ by conventional definition,” Persimmon murmured, her sense of being unsure now progressing into “confusion”. “The material it is made out of gives it a soft texture, and I am appreciative of the fabric’s pink coloring…” She stared at Palice for a moment. “But… why did you want to know such a thing?”
“So that I would know what I should buy for you,” Palice answered, picking up the clothes.
Persimmon blinked, startled. “That is not necessary. I can assure you that I do not require any of this attire.”
“I know. But… I would like to buy them for you. And as I said earlier, comfort is an important part of getting proper rest. So perhaps… wearing such clothing could lead to more efficient recharges?” Palice explained, choosing his words carefully. He knew how to get Persimmon to change her mind about something — and he could do it relatively easily, too.
And sure enough: “…In that case… It would be sensible to wear something like this… if only to potentially prove your hypothesis,” Persimmon said tentatively. “I will attempt to wear them tonight, then. I will report my findings to you at the nearest opportunity.”
Palice chuckled, and Persimmon felt her ears tingle with warmth. This was… an occurrence that had been taking place more and more often around him. The skin on her ears (and in some cases her face as well) would rise in temperature, and would gain a noticeable red hue. A significant rise in her heart rate would accompany the phenomena, and she would develop a sense of…
Hm.
She did not have a name for the emotion. More research would have to be done in order to find the proper term.
“I… look forward to hearing your report,” Palice said, smiling at her. Although, something that Persimmon had only witnessed a few times before came along with it; his face had turned pink, if only by the slightest amount.
---
Persimmon looked herself over. Her new evening attire was rather different from anything she had worn before. It was as soft as it had looked in the store, and managed to be both warm and cool at the same time. The fabric was thick and insulating, but the fact that the outfit was comprised of a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved shirt kept it from posing a risk of causing her to overheat. How remarkably logical, Persimmon thought in satisfaction.
She undid the two buns she had tied her hair up in, and set the bands in their designated place in a small drawer labeled “personal” in her examination room. It was the only place in the room not dedicated to her work, besides her charging pod. She wondered if she could somehow get permission to have a container for her things, as well. The drawer wasn’t large enough to fit her nightclothes and everything else – but perhaps it could, with some rearranging… That was something to determine in the morning, however. She needed to go about getting rest, if she wanted to have adequate performance at her job tomorrow. So she opened her recharge pod, and started to climb inside after removing her mask– Kshcik!
Persimmon startled at the sound of her room door opening. She turned, only to be met with a scoff while she did so. “What are you wearing?”
She stiffened at the sound of Cherry’s voice – out of all of the sisters who could have seen her like this, why did it have to be her? “...My pajamas," Persimmon answered sheepishly, not wanting to meet Cherry’s gaze.
Cherry made a psh sound as she looked Persimmon over again. “Why would you need to wear something like that? You look ridiculous.”
“...Comfort is an important part of getting proper rest,” Persimmon murmured, quoting Palice. “So I am conducting an experiment to determine if–” “Where did you even get them?” Cherry interrupted, crossing her arms.
“...I bought them.” “You liar. You never order anything online, and you are way too much of a goody-goody to try and leave the hospital for something like that.”
“My – My friend gave them to me,” Persimmon admitted. She should’ve known better than to think she could deceive one of her sisters. They had all known each other from birth – which meant that they knew all the habits that the other members of their line had. Including the specific tells they had when lying.
“Oh, your friend?” Cherry snickered as her face changed into a sneer. “You mean the one you made up?” “Palice is not ‘made up’,” Persimmon stated firmly, her eyes narrowing. “He bought these for me as a gift. He wanted me to be comfortable when I slept, and he also cares about making sure that I am efficient in everything that I–” “Come on, Persimmon. You can quit defending your imaginary friend. Nobody worth their salt would ever want to be friends with you.” Persimmon stiffened, blinking a few times. “What… do you mean by that?”
“I mean, look at you!” Cherry gestured at her while shaking her head. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve got nothing to offer to anybody. You’ve got basically no personality, no hobbies, no interests unrelated to work – if someone did try to be friends with you, they’d run out of things to talk about with you in minutes. And it’s not even like you're pretty or especially good at your job or anything. You’re just… here. There’s literally nothing special about you, other than how much of a freak you are. Seriously – who even acts like that, Persimmon? Robot Masters had more emotions than you do. And it’s not even like you have a reason to behave like this. You have the same kind of emotional processor the rest of us do, and mom programmed your personality module the same way she did all of ours. Are you… Are you doing this on purpose? Is that it?” Cherry tilted her head at Persimmon in pity. “Are you trying to make yourself more interesting, Persimmon? Because it’s not working. Not the way you want it to. All you’re doing is scaring people off–”
“I do not – do not scare anybody,” Persimmon said, swallowing hard. Her chest felt tight, and water was gathering in her eyes. This sort of physical reaction always happened when she was around Cherry. She had asked Palice about it once, and he had explained to her that it was likely due to an emotion known as “sadness”, or perhaps “frustration”.
And if that was true, then she was starting to get rather “annoyed” with being sad and frustrated because of Cherry. “This – This is simply my personality. And I do not think – think that there is a problem with it. Mother – Mother doesn’t dislike it, either. And while I may not – may not have a wide variety of interests like you do, Palice and I – and I could talk for hours. And I – I am good at my job,” Persimmon continued, taking in stuttery breaths as she spoke in an attempt at keeping any of her forming tears from escaping. “In fact, I am better at it than you, if the difference in our scores from our performance evaluation last week is – is any indicator–”
“Woah, Persimmon! What are you wearing?!” A new, more chipper voice joined the conversation. Another one of Persimmon’s sisters excitedly ran into the room and went right up to her. “It looks so-o-o-o cool!” Persimmon blinked once more, surprised by this new reaction to her attire. “...Thank you, Clementine,” she answered after taking a moment to compose herself. (Not that she needed it for her sister’s sake – while she and her linemates could understand each other’s habits, most of them had yet to figure out the subtle changes in her deadpan personality that indicated when she was upset.) “I am glad that you like it.” And she was. It was a welcome change from how Cherry had reacted. “Wow!” A softer, smaller voice joined in next. Papaya, the only member of Persimmon’s line who was younger than her, approached her. “That looks… really cute, Persimmon!” The normally reserved girl reached a hand out, only to draw it back. “May I… Can I touch it?”
“Yes.” Papaya awkwardly petted one of Persimmon’s shoulders, but was smiling the whole time. “It’s so soft…” “Do you have any more of these clothes, Persimmon?” Clementine asked, still curious. “I want to wear something like this, too!”
“Yeah!” Papaya agreed. “I really like the red hearts…” “You guys can’t be serious,” Cherry grumbled, huffing. “Look at her! She looks like a clown–” “Oh. My. Gosh.” Yet another sister entered the room – this time it was Melon, the sixth member of the line. “Persimmon! Giiiirl. You look soooo good right now. The red in your outfit is, like, totally bringing out your skin tone. And here I thought you were more of a winter…” Persimmon stared blankly at her. “I fail to comprehend how a person could be a season,” she stated bluntly.
A laugh went around the room, but it wasn’t quite malicious, like how Cherry’s laughs usually were after Persimmon said something. “No, no! It’s like – a makeup classification,” Melon explained. “I’ll tell you more about it later.”
The fourth linemate, Mango, soon shuffled in. She leaned against a wall, and looked Persimmon over with a nod. “Nice,” she said in approval. “Where’d you get it?”
“It was a gift,” Persimmon said.
“Yeah,” Cherry chimed in. “From her fake friend–” “Did that Palice guy give it to you?” Mango asked, as if Cherry hadn’t even started speaking. “Yes.”
“Oho! So! Cupid has come for our second-youngest sister at last!” Peach now entered, eyes sparkling. “It is just as the Oracle foretold it!”
Cherry wrinkled her nose at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The Oracle! Our great leader in guiding us to enlightenment!” Peach waltzed up to Persimmon, pushing her way past Clementine and Papaya. She started waving her hands around in some sort of intense, ritualistic motion. “And I see… that Palice’s love for you is not one sided! You have feelings for him as well! Cupid really has come for you! What a splendid fate for you to stumble into!”
Persimmon’s brow furrowed in complete and utter puzzlement. “...What?” “Yes, yes, it’s all becoming clear! Everything’s falling into place!”
“I do not understand–”
“Hell yeah it is,” Mango interrupted again. “You go, Peach. Get all mystic and junk.”
Cherry let out a groan. “What did I do as a mess of source code to get stuck with you guys as linemates..?” “What’s going on in here?”
Everyone in the room froze, going quiet at the words of the eldest member of their line. Apricot walked in, the tallest and most intimidating of the eight of them. “Shouldn’t you all be recharging–” She paused at the sight of the second-youngest line member. “Persimmon,” she addressed coolly. “Why are you out of your work uniform?” Cherry grinned at the line of questioning, crossing her arms like she had won something. You’re in trouble now, she mouthed, staring at Persimmon all the while.
“...I was given pajamas as a gift,” Persimmon explained, doing her best to ignore her. “From Palice. He… wanted me to be comfortable while I slept. He said that it is just as important for us to be that way when we recharge as it is for humans when they sleep. And he… told me that it could potentially lead to a more efficient recharge. So I wanted to try wearing them to test his hypothesis.”
“...Alright,” Apricot said after a moment’s consideration. “That makes sense. Let me know how it goes. If it goes well, perhaps it’s something the rest of us can adopt.” The room erupted into cheers while Cherry’s jaw dropped in shock. “What?! Are you serious?! Apricot, you can’t just let her–”
“I can,” Apricot said, sharpening her gaze at Cherry, “And I did. There is no problem with her wearing that. It’s not illegal to do so, nor would it pose a threat to her being able to properly perform her duties. And from what she’s told us about Palice before, he sounds like a rather knowledgeable and trustworthy man,” she stopped, checking to make sure nobody outside the room was listening, “Or at least, trustworthy enough for me to allow her to continue going on unapproved excursions with him. If I can allow that, then why not permit something as simple as her wanting to try out a harmless gift she was given from him? And besides, it looks rather…” Apricot looked at Persimmon with a smile. “It looks rather cute on her. And to think that I thought that she was a winter...” “Oh my gosh, for reals?!” Melon beamed, appearing to be absolutely “thrilled.” “Me too! But she seems like more of a spring now, right?!”
“Indeed,” Apricot confirmed. “She does. It makes me wonder what colors the rest of us would look good in…” “I – But – You – Ugh!” Cherry looked away, seeming what Persimmon could infer as being “defeated”. “Fine. Whatever…” Apricot sighed, choosing to disregard Cherry’s behavior for now. “Now that this has all been handled – to your recharge pods. All of you.” A loud Awwww! came from everybody else except for Cherry and Persimmon. “I mean it! Cherry, you have five vaccinations to administer tomorrow. To children, may I add. You cannot afford to be sluggish. Peach, Mango, you’ll be working triage. Clementine, you’re slated for a triple bypass surgery. Melon, you’re on IV and medication duty in the senior ward. And Persimmon here has both a hip replacement and a minor amputation to perform – and that last one goes threefold for you, Papaya. And as for me, I’ve got a whole slew of blood tests to run and a vascular surgery, along with a thoracotomy. So I don’t want to hear that any of you are ‘tired’ or ‘didn’t charge enough’ in the morning. Okay?” All of Persimmon’s sisters mumbled quiet confirmations as they left with Apricot – save for Peach, who let out a loud “The Oracle does not approve!” in protest. Persimmon watched quietly, feeling “stunned” by how the interaction had ended pleasantly, despite how Cherry had tried to turn the others against her. She was typically more adept at it than that… In any case, it was time to sleep. Persimmon slid into her recharge pod at last, grateful. As she closed her eyes, a smile came to her face. She would most definitely have to thank Palice for her gift, regardless of whether or not the experiment ended up being successful.
~~~
Day 15: Sad Memory (2024 Prompt)*
(Note: this response contains depictions of illness, medical treatments, discussions of both potentially terminal illnesses and child death, and graphic depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.)
“Selene?” Cathniel was careful as he opened the door to Selene’s room, not wanting to be too loud in case she was asleep. “Selene? It’s me.”
Selene rolled over in her bed, smiling as she saw Cathniel. “Cath — Cath—” She was cut off by a horrible coughing fit, eventually clutching at her chest as she tried to breathe.
“Oh-!” Cathniel rushed over to her, helping her to sit up. “Take deep breaths,” he cautioned, patting her back as he assisted in moving her upwards. “Theo says — says that you should inhale with your whole chest — There! Just like that.” He let her catch her breath for a few minutes, remaining quiet as she focused on the act of inhaling and exhaling.
He tried not to think of how labored it all sounded now.
“Selene,” he said again, once her breathing was normal. “I have a surprise for you.”
Selene smirked at him in her usual way, becoming excited. “What is it?” He put a bowl that he was carrying into her lap, along with a spoon. She looked down and let out a loud gasp. “Ice cream!”
“Shh!” Cathniel put a finger to her lips. “It’s a secret! Theodore and the nurse reploids will get mad if they find out I brought it to you.” Selene nodded vigorously, and started eating it as soon as Cathniel took his hand away. The way her face lit up let him know that potentially getting in trouble for bringing it to her was absolutely worth it. “How is it?”
“It’s good! Especially since it’s vanilla. That one’s the best.”
Cathniel gave her a little smile. “I remember! You said that it was your favorite.” “Yeah! And – Hey, wait. Cathniel, have you ever had ice cream before?”
“Hm… I don’t think so.” “Try some!” Selene offered him a spoonful – only to pause when he simply stared at her. “Oh, right. I should’ve wiped the spoon off first.” She ate the ice cream already on the spoon before reaching for the box of tissues next to her bed. She wiped the spoon clean after grabbing a tissue, and then got another spoonful. But she found herself surprised when Cathniel only continued to stare at her. “What’s wrong? Do you not like cold food or something?”
“I… I don’t know if reploids can eat food like this. I’ve never tried it.”Selene thought about that for a moment. “...A little bit couldn’t hurt, right?” She asked. “Would it be okay if you only had a small amount?”
“I think that would be fine.” Cathniel took the spoon and put it into his mouth. His eyes widened, surprised by the taste. “Oh! This – This is delicious. I didn’t know something could taste so… ah – what word do I use..?”
“Sweet?” Selene offered, beaming at him.
“Yes! Sweet. I think.” He happily gave the spoon back to Selene. “Thank you for letting me try some.”
“Yeah! Of course! You’re my best friend. That means we do everything together.”
Cathniel snickered a bit. “I don’t think we do everything with each other. But we do end up doing a lot.” “Uh-huh…” Selene stared down at her bowl, suddenly looking downcast. “...Cathniel?”
“Yes?”
“Can you… stay with me? Just for a little while? I don’t wanna be alone again.” “Of course I will.” Cathniel motioned for Selene to scoot over, and climbed into her bed. He pulled her into a hug, a smile returning to the girl’s face. But interestingly enough, it was now Cathniel’s turn to frown. As he held her, he noticed that she was… smaller, somehow. Like her body didn’t quite take up enough space. He pulled her closer, realizing that it took hardly any effort to do so at all now. He pursed his lips, confused. Wasn’t Selene supposed to weigh more than this? She had a few weeks ago…
Was this what Theodore had told him about? That sickness made creatures like humans more fragile?
“Cathniel?” Selene looked up at him with curious eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I – I think so,” he said, feeling uncertain. Was he okay? He was fine physically, and yet… he was nervous. “Are… Are you?”
“Yes. I feel pretty good today. I think I might be getting better.”Cathniel let out a little hum. “Good, he said, hugging her tighter. “That’s very good.”
---
“Cathniel.” Cathniel let out a groan as he awoke, feeling groggy. He looked around to find that he was still in Selene’s room, the girl still in his arms. But she was asleep – they must have dozed off. “Mm..?” He looked around, trying to find who had called his name, only to see a rather serious looking Theodore sitting next to him. But he didn’t look mad, which… good. Maybe that meant he didn’t know about the ice cream. And it was likely that he hadn’t missed any work, either. “...Hello, Theodore,” Cathniel greeted finally.
“Yes, hello…” Theodore let out a sigh. “I need to speak with you about something.”
“What is it?” “It’s… It’s about Selene,” Theodore said slowly. “And her sickness.” “...What about her?”“
...She’s not… getting any better. Not from the few tests the medical reploids have been able to conduct–” Cathniel snapped to attention. “That’s not true!” He had to do his best not to raise his voice too much – Selene needed all the rest she could get.“Cathniel–” “She – She told me she was feeling better today. That means she’s improving.”
“...This isn’t the kind of illness an organic’s body can reliably fight on its own,” Theodore continued. “And we don’t have what we need to treat her.”
“So what – what are you saying?”
“I’m saying… that if things continue as they have been, Selene… will most likely die.”
Cathniel gave Theodore an owlish stare. “...Okay.” Theodore gaped at him, horrified. “What – What do you mean, ‘okay’? Do you not understand how serious that would be?” “...I know that it would be… bad,” Cathniel murmured, “But you could just… fix and reactivate her. Couldn’t you?”
Theodore let out a huff. “It doesn’t work that way for organics,” he explained. “If they die, they usually stay dead… forever.”
Cathniel tensed, his whole body becoming rigid. He found himself instinctively clinging to Selene, pushing her against him. “N-No! No, that – No!” “I know it’s horrible. But that’s how it’ll go, unless we take… drastic measures.”
“Like what? What – What do you need me to do? I’ll – I’ll do it. I’ll do all of it. Whatever it is.”
Theodore gave Cathniel a look of deep consideration. “...Are you certain of that?” “Yes! Yes, I am.”
“...Alright. In that case, I’ll get straight to it.” Despite saying that, Theodore took a deep breath before he spoke next. “We… will have to send her back to the surface–”
“No.”
“Cathniel–”
“NO!” Selene stirred at the sound of Cathniel’s voice being raised. He rubbed her arm, hoping to soothe her as he lowered his volume. “I said no. Those people on the surface didn’t take good care of her–”
“You don’t understand–”
“And now you want to send her back to them?!” “It’s not like that–”
“I won’t let you do it!”
“It won’t be the same people,” Theodore snapped, losing his composure. “They have buildings called hospitals. They’re full of medical personnel who have all the medicine an organic like her could ever need. All the medicine that we lack. They will care for her until she is brought to full health.”Cathniel narrowed his eyes at him. “...Are you sure?” “Yes. I’m positive.”
“...And she can come back afterward? I can take care of her again?” “I–” Theodore paused, taking a moment to scrutinize Cathniel himself. “...Yes,” he responded after a beat. “...You can.”
Cathniel nodded, satisfied. He glanced over at Selene, making sure she was still asleep. “...Okay, then,” he said as he watched her chest rise and fall with deep breaths, each attempt at breathing remaining a hard task for her body – even when she rested. “Then let’s do it.”
---
“YOU’RE A LIAR!” Reploids fled from the throne room in every direction as Cathniel shouted, his voice echoing off of the walls. His eyes were glowing bright enough to make his irises look white in color, the pale yellow diamonds that they were composed of being pushed to their absolute limit. The only one in Cathniel’s vicinity who remained unmoved was Theodore – and even he had to ignore the slamming of his heart against his chest as every instinct in him told him to run. “Cathniel,” he cautioned, his tone soft. “I need you to be more specific with me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “SELENE!” Cathniel hissed. He was in front of Theodore in an instant – the latter reploid hardly even saw him flying toward him. “You TOLD me that she would come back here! But it’s been MONTHS! And whenever I ask you about her, you don’t tell me ANYTHING!” “Cath-” Theodore went quiet as Cathniel grabbed him by the collar, snatching him towards him. “Silence.” Theodore found himself compelled to close his mouth, if only for the sake of not invoking Cathniel’s wrath further. “...I ought to kill you,” he said, voice bordering on a growl. “You had no right to lie to me the way you did. And now look at what you’ve done. She was safe here. And now anything could have happened to her. I bet you don’t even know where she is.” “...It – It is true that I… do not know of her current whereabouts,” Theodore admitted, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you, I had her taken to a hospital. Just as I said I would. I – I did not lie to you about that.” “...But you did lie?”
“...Yes. I – Was untruthful when I told you that she would come back. It… is far more likely that the betas took her into their custody–” SLAM! Theodore groaned as he found himself thrown into a wall, only to be dragged back to Cathniel, an unseen force pulling him back to his feet. He then was grabbed by the neck and gasped for air as Cathniel started pressing on it, his fingers beginning to crush his airways. But Theodore knew that the strength wasn’t his own. No, this was… “This – This is… a gross misuse of the Mother Elf’s p-power,” he stammered out, his throat closing up. “Don’t… Don’t you think?” “She gave me this gift to use however I choose!” Cathniel spat, insistent. “And right now, I wish to – to-!” Theodore was suddenly released, with Cathniel falling to the ground in a heap. He was silent for a moment, his hair completely covering him as he curled into a ball. Theodore watched him silently, rubbing at his neck (his self-repair systems would hopefully take care of the damage) – but then a low, agonized sob started to come from Cathniel. “...Cathniel?” He carefully leaned over his body, unsure as to how to proceed next. Cathniel wasn’t exactly… known for sparing people when he decided to take their lives. So really, he should have been trying to flee while he still had the chance. And yet… “Are you alright?” A miserable “No!” fell from Cathniel’s mouth. “Wh-Wh-What if she - she – she–” “Breathe. You’re hiccuping too much to get so much as a word out.” “What – What – What if she’s dead?!” Cathniel suddenly raised his head up, clinging to Theodore’s vest. “What – What if – she got sicker, and – and I w-w-wasn’t th-there–!”
“Oh, no – Cathniel. Shhh…” Despite his mixed feelings about comforting the man who had just tried to choke him, Theodore found himself pulling Cathniel into his arms anyway. It was hard to do anything else, after hearing that he’d heard that he essentially thought that his best friend – who was a mere child – was deceased. “Come here.”
Cathniel obeyed, letting Theodore hold him. “She’s not dead,” he promised, smoothing out the young monarch’s hair. “Her illness was perfectly treatable, as I told you it was.” “But – But – But why won’t she come back?” “They probably found her a nice organic family to live with. That’s all I meant when I said she betas’ custody, really. It means they found someone else to take care of her.” “But I’m the one who takes care of her!” Cathniel wailed, tears running down his face. “That’s my job!” “No,” Theodore corrected gently. “Your job is to manage all of us.”
“But I don’t WANT to do that!” Cathniel shoved Theodore away from him. “I don’t want to manage anybody!” “...But you’re rather good at it,” Theodore tried, not entirely sure what Cathniel was upset about. “No I’m not! All I do is whatever everybody WANTS me to do! All anyone does is – is – is control me! And if I don’t do what they say, they just get mad! Nobody wants me for anything else! Selene was the only person who did, and now she’s gone because of you! And – And – And nobody else cares about me! Nobody else has ever cared about me! Not even you!” Cathniel wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing once again. All Theodore could do was watch, dumbfounded. Is that… truly how he feels? If so, it would… explain a lot. Why he kept skipping work, why he didn’t seem to have any other advisors he spoke to without a meeting being scheduled beforehand. Why he always kept Theodore at arm’s length when they did talk. And admittedly… Cathniel was almost always alone before the Mother Elf, too. Nobody went out of their way to talk to him, and when they did, it was because they needed something from him.
And Theodore was once guilty of that as well.
But even though none of that excused Cathniel trying to strangle him mere moments ago… “...Cathniel.” He reached out and started wiping at the tears on his face. “...I want you to know that I do care about you. Very much so.”
Cathniel sniffled, looking at Theodore wearily. “You do?” “Yes. I… Try to help you with your duties because I want to. Not because I feel like I’ll get something out of it.”
A little bird-like blink was Cathniel’s response. “...Really?” “Yes. Really and truly.” Cathniel gave him a small smile, only for his look to be replaced by one of dread. He soon started to cry again, this time while hyperventilating. “What? What’s wrong?” “I – I – I tried to kill you–” “Oh, yes. That.” Theodore waved him off, wisely choosing not to harp on the issue – lest that drive Cathniel into a complete panic. “It’s alright. It happens. What’s a bit of choking between friends?”
The statement was meant to be a joke, but Cathniel tilted his head, eyes wide. “You’re – You’re my friend?” “Yes,” Theodore answered, unaware of how much his words meant to him. “I would say so.” At that, Cathniel started to laugh, his giggles growing in both pitch and volume as a joyous grin spread across his face. …Good grief, Theodore thought. The poor man’s in the throes of hysterics. “...Let’s get you to bed,” he decided, pulling Cathniel to his feet. “I think you’re in need of some rest.”
Cathniel let out another laugh as Theodore started to lead him to his room. “Okay,” he agreed. “Whatever you say, friend.”
Theodore tried not to groan as he continued taking Cathniel through the halls. But he did allow himself to run a hand down his face as they went. Just what did I get myself into now..?
~~~
And thus ends this set of responses! I admittedly haven't started on the next set yet, but I think those ones are going to be shorter than most of the ones I've shown here. But now for some notes:
The fairytale Day 11's response is based on is "Sleeping Beauty"! This particular version of it was directly inspired by "Little Brier-Rose" by the Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault's "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood" (1912/1921) (in fact, one of the lines is an almost-direct reference to it!), and the Twicetold Tale novel "The Sealed-Up House" by Olivia Snowe (2013). (Has anybody else read the Twicetold Tale novels? I've only ever read three of them, and it was quite a long time ago, but I remember those books being really good.) I originally intended to take the inspiration from Perrault and Snowe farther by rewriting the second half of their version of events as well... but the response was getting too long. (Seriously. I would most likely still be working on it if I stuck with my original plan.) So I settled for making a reference to them at the end instead. Although... I wouldn't be opposed to writing a sequel sometime in the future...
Demiastle is the same guy who Woya was flirting with in Day 2's response, and he's also the "Mr. Whytte" mentioned in Day 3. And while the way he's presented here is the main version of him that I write, there's also an alternate version of him that @bruggle and I have written together! (Hence why there's a tag specifically for the Collision Course/Convergence version of him on this post. While the two iterations of his character are similar, there are a few key differences between them that make differentiating the two important!)
The character known as "Caret" is Collision Course's version of Nightmare Zero. I thought it would be nice to give him a name, and one with a mathematical theme to match the others ("Zero" being a number, "X" being a variable, the pulley and "Axl" system...); a caret is this symbol (^), and it's commonly used for writing exponents. So perhaps one could say that he's... Zero squared.
The name of Demiastle's horse, Accipiter, translates to "hawk" or "bird of prey" in Latin. (If you know, you know.)
Since the cause of Anubis Necromancess Mk. I's death was never stated in canon, I like to think that as far as Convergence goes, some of the factory workers eventually got ahold of him when he and the other Arcadian soldiers stormed the place. Petra was not part of that.
Persimmon's the same doctor who was mentioned in Day 6's prompt! The response for Day 14 takes place quite a while before that one, though.
And you may have noticed that Persimmon and all of her sisters are named after fruit. Orange fruit, may I add. In fact, a nickname for Persimmon's line is the Tangerine Line (their actual line name is "Sister Surgeon", or "SS"). Furthermore, Persimmon doesn't like taking her mask off in public, or in front of anyone who isn't a family member (i.e. her sisters or creator) or a close friend. You may be wondering what that last fact has to do with anything. But I can assure you, it is relevant.
Peach's character is inspired by Matikanefukukitaru from the game Umamusume: Pretty Derby (2021-)! Her eccentric personality and never-ending quest to find good fortune and favor from supernatural sources were things I wanted to try writing for a character, and I'd say it worked pretty well!
As always, please let me know if there are any formatting issues (tumblr keeps pulling fast ones on me - it seems to be making certain paragraphs run together, leading me to having to put big spaces in between said paragraphs to try and stop that from happening...)! Have a good day, stay safe, and may God bless you!