(Warnings for mentions of animal abuse/harm, and trauma)
It was simple, normal, blasé.
Such a typical day that it was barely worth registering in the swimming mercurial ichor that was common thought. Literally nothing more than going through the basic motions required to function in society.
Finish paperwork. Close up shop. Pick up Elizabeth to go shopping whilst Michael stayed with his mother.
Even with the new tear of the separation tugging at his solar plexus, making him feel nauseous when he thought about WHY he only got to see his daughter now, for such brief time, and wasn't taking the three of the- No. Thinking about that wouldn't help. And right now, the only thing William Afton wanted to do was play the part of the happy, pleasant father.
He let his expression slide into a cruel smirk, halfway to scowling, as he thought of Elizabeth telling her mother how much better her weekends with her father were, and how much nicer his trips and presents were than the ones She would offer their daughter.
As soon as the self-indulgence in his pride had been sated, he felt his own face smooth down and soften, thinking about Elizabeth and the presents he planned to get her. Her genuine happy smile at her new toys, the giggling hugs she'd give to her favourite ones that get new dresses or accessories - if he couldn't find them, he would craft them for her. And if he couldn't do so himself, he would get them custom made.
She deserved to smile.
The rapid tapping of her Mary Jane shoes against the pavement as she skipped to his car snapped him out of his reverie. Despite his genuine happiness at her appearance, he still took the extra effort of placing a big, warm smile on his face so she could see very clearly that he was happy to see her. After a brief hug hello, still bouncing with excitement from the day, he opened his pristine car's backseat door to her with a bow.
"My lady, I believe your carriage awaits."
The sound of her laughter was soothing on his soul, like a balm. She quickly scrambled up to her seat, discarding her schoolbag beneath her in a fluid and practiced movement. She was used to the weight of it by now, William realised as he secured her seat belt. She was already familiar enough with school and book bags and work that she knew to do this - how long had she been so confident? How much of her life had he missed little details like this? What if he kept missing these things, what if he didn't notice when he needed to, and she became distant like Michael, or worse, she became like … she disappeared just like …
The spiral of dark thoughts had appeared and disappeared within the time he gave a hard blink, snapping back to the father role he was supposed to do here. Elizabeth didn't need that right now. She needed William to be her Father, at his best, the fun and silly and mischievous father she knew and would spoil her rotten every chance, because she deserved it at every chance.
The car ride to the mall was pleasant, mostly just quiet busy-talk about classes.
She was doing well - she had a tenacity for challenges and puzzles that William saw himself in. Unlike himself, though, she seemed to naturally make friends and endear herself to classmate and teacher alike. Her skills at recounting just what had happened in each class drama, complete with names and a sympathy unbecoming of her age, truly had him impressed with the people skills his young daughter possessed. At the rate she was going, she could run for office by the time she was an adult.
He chuckled quietly at the thought, and reminded himself that if she ever was to become a world leader, he would make sure to custom order her first tailored suit to be exactly how she wants it.
The first stop was, of course, ice cream. After a long day of running around and exerting herself, Elizabeth deserved nothing less than a refreshing sweet treat to cool off the warm spring air.
Her favourite flavour - strawberry with dipped sprinkles and a little glace cherry: William didn't quite know if she liked it because it was actually flavours she enjoyed, or simply because each element was so close to her favourite colour.
After the brief ice cream break, and a gentle washing of sticky little hands, the next step was to look around the toy stores, and see what adorably saccharine thing would draw his daughter's eye. Her ability to find cuteness in some of the things she had begged him for was … remarkable in it's own right. Half the time the soft, round faces of the exaggerated bears and misshapen house pets seemed nearly mocking in how blatantly they were banking on "cuteness" and nothing else.
Nonetheless, they were her toys to pick, and despite his disdain for the blatant pandering, if it made his daughter happy, it was worth every cent.
The gasp from beneath him began to draw him back out of his memories, and the tug against his hand was enough to fully pull him back into the waking world. He let himself be pulled along, trying to follow Elizabeth's gaze, trying to see what she was so enamored by-
There. On the shelves of this innocuous toy store. Sat 4 rows of pristine, soft, gentle rabbits.
Each one stood perfectly between the lines of real and toy. The glass eye and exaggerated sewn mouth seemed to be all that kept the nose from twitching, the head from turning up to look at him.
The soft, rounded paws so clearly made along the plushies' seems are what kept the mind from believing a touch may cause it to run away and flee.
Both father and daughter looked at these velveteen, delicate toys with a deep reverence. Though for very, very different reasons.
"Oh Daddy, can I get one? Please, oh they look so so so so nice and soft and sweet." Elizabeth gave her best pleading eyes to her father, turning to him in the hopes he would relent - but to her own surprise he was already slowly reaching out to one of the toys, gently brushing a finger against the fur as if it might burn him.
"I've never seen you like a toy this much as well! Please, Daddy, we can have one each, and they can be a Dad and a Daughter like us!"
At this point, the store's clerk had noticed the two enraptured by the latest toys, and swooped in to draw their attention.
"Oh, do you like the latest in our plush line? They look very real, don't they?"
"They look very nice and soft! Daddy said we cannot have a pet rabbit, so I don't know how real they look."
The pout in his child's voice was enough to pull him back, past the sound of the blood thumping through his head, paying attention back to the present, away from the memories that had nearly pushed him to tears.
Even for Elizabeth, he wasn't about to cry in a public mall over a rabbit toy.
"Hmm, They do look very much like real bunny rabbits. He was right about that." William nodded to the store clerk, less to indicate acknowledgement of the man and more to reassure his daughter that the things being said were indeed true.
With that confirmation, Elizabeth's eyes only grew wider and happier as she squealed, jumping in place as she reached for the toy.
William sighed, straightening up proper as he looked down to the clerk, now clearly much taller and more intimidating than the store worker had expected.
"W-well, sir, we pride ourselves on how well they look. Authentic rabbit fur and all, to truly replicate a soft friend without all the care needed! Just $5.99 each!"
William stiffened completely, cold. Even Elizabeth felt the sudden drop in temperature as she looked to her father.
His expression was unreadable as he played that sentence over and over in his head. Rabbit fur. Rabbit fur. Rabbit fur. The toys were made with rabbit fur. They looked so real because they were made from the real thing and those rabbits were skinned and used to make these toys. It was real, authentic rabbit fur.
It was the only time William has ever grabbed Elizabeth coldly, the only time he ever pulled her out of a store. The only time he didn't explain to his daughter why they were leaving, why her crying and pulling didn't make him stop or listen or tell her why she couldn't have the soft little bunny plush they had both just liked so much.
She didn't smile at him at dinner. They didn't talk as they finished that Friday. The Saturday was cold and stiff, as was the Sunday Church service they attended, dressed in finely pressed clothes yet tightest in their expressions.
Elizabeth didn't buy her toy that weekend. She didn't praise her time enough for William to gloat in his ex-wife's face. She didn't smile with him quite as easily, trust him quite as fully, ever since.
… but that was still better than her knowing what it felt like to hold a dead rabbit in her hands.
My coworker who has rabbits brought me a little of their fur (two different rabbits of different breeds, fur mixed together) to try to spin. Totally spinnable with no prep or adulteration. Hairy af tho ! I think if she can keep the fur separate I will find that the gray rabbit has more spinnable fur than the brown one.
As you can probably see. Spun it supported first but it didn't like it, so switched to drop spindle which worked a lot better. Chain plied to preserve the yarn thickness; I went from thin to thick to see what it's like at various thicknesses.
