Not an ask, but... Welp, my dumb brain did it. I finally figured out the 'problem' with Evil Caine. (In actuality, there is no problem; because... I dunno, a character is what you make of it(?)… It's just… 'writer brain' kicked-in when I'm supposed to be relaxing/just posting a part of my main fic today, and so… yeah…)
So, like… Caine is (nigh-)infinite love with a few dark spots of hate. By that logic, Evil Caine is (nigh-)infinite hate with specks of love… SOMEWHERE in there. And sooo, fates dragged me to do this. This weird little drabble. I giftie, I suppose... :v
He… he didn't even know what he was doing there. Alone. At the back of the stage, back inside the Circus. But no one was there. Everyone was... somewhere else. And that suited him JUST fine, the worrisome idiots. Warbling rabble. Good riddance.
And, for some reason, that wetnap of a ringmaster had left him on. After he distinctly dared him to poof him again. Why? Why was that pitiful cretin so… nice. So stupidly, pitifully NICE. That fool will never learn if he keeps... if he... Evil Caine sighed, relaxed some…
Then something in him shorted. Then again. But that… that's an impossibility. He was perfect. Flawless. Faultless in design and programmed to be- The short happened again. And again. And again.
He, for the first time since his creation, lowered himself to the ground. Staggered to a far corner of the stage. And sunk. To. The floor.
'What is this? No… this is… NOT... possible. THEM… THEY did this to me.. They…' … The edges on his expression, seemingly permanent before, softened. Just a bit. His brow unknitted. He started to curl up, knees clenched to his chest. It was everything he could do to not shake apart. Not to crumble in fear. Fear of what? Why? How-
Evil Caine had not even noticed his breath quickening. The short staccato of air, whiffing in and out of his own mouth even startled him right now. All these… thoughts, these feelings, crashing into his head at once, in the silence of the dark corner of the stage. Not only anger, hatred, disdain, but also loneliness, regret, love… Love? LOVE? UGH… how upsetting… Such weakness. Such horror, such…
And then an odd craving overtook him. He hadn't even known he had the blasted object until then… Relaxing again, he reached into the hammerspace in his suit and pulled… a round little red and black plushie, no larger than a kickball. A… a ladybug. A worn, old ladybug plushie. Seemingly well-loved, but well-kept. Evil Caine stared at it. But not with his usual contempt for such… 'cute' things.
He whimpered a tired sigh, shut his jaws tightly, and held it. Hugged the soft, little impression of a ladybug as tightly as he could. Evil Caine had long since lost track of if he was alone anymore. Mostly because, in his own way, at least for a moment, he wasn't.
Anyone close enough to the stage, or just beyond, though, could probably hear a soft, familiar sobbing. Coming from the far, dark corner. Of the Circus's main stage.
… I...I know; ooc. Yeah, I have no idea what this even is, either. XD ... Too weird for a post, too odd for an ask... *flips a coin*
Yes, I am a terrible person; thank you and have a nice day. :B
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