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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 19, 2012 15:09:19 GMT -8
Eradication Instincts
The dying embers of the sunset slithered across the evening sky like trails of blood, an ebbing crimson glow. The perilous darkness of night crept through the city, swallowing street after street until there was nothing left for it to consume. Brisk gusts of frigid wind swept in its wake like a tide of ice-cold hands reaching into every crevice of the city, into crumbled buildings and slapdash hovels alike, into the hearts of those who still resided there. They pulled their tattered coats and dirty blankets up around their necks and watched the last vestige of the day’s light—their only comfort in an otherwise blackened world—seep from the horizon as the warmth seeps away from the cold flesh of a fresh corpse. This was the last sunset that many of the survivors would bear witness to.
Many were unaware of their fate and huddled, as they had been doing for the past weeks, around skimpy campfires among what friends and family members had been spared from the initial onslaught. Others were more cognizant of the dark forces at play, and kept their eyes rooted to every shadow that moved. On top of the glorious number of bodies that had never been uncovered from the ruins and remained only in memory, many individuals had also turned up missing in the past few dismal days. Some had been found later, brutalized and dismembered. Fear and trepidation hung in the air like an epidemic, and few were spared from this fever.
In a half-decimated apartment building resided a band of about ten survivors who, also, were not immune to the creeping terror. They had hunkered down together in one of the rooms that still had claim to a roof and a door, and one window out which trickled a meager amount of smoke. All were silent. Were they waiting?
To be saved?
Or to die?
Their prayers would soon be answered, not by the angels they so desperately hailed, but by a demon. A demon who, upon seeing the smoke trailing from the boarded-up window one story above the ground, grinned a most malicious grin: her black cherry lips peeled back to reveal rapaciously sharp teeth, gleaming even in the utter absence of moonlight. The smile on her ghost-white face and the menacing glint in her dark violet eyes was a ghastly sight.
The girl, cloaked in a black zipper jacket with the hood up over her white hair, slender black jeans, and heavy combat boots, turned to face her comrade behind her. She pointed a long, clawed finger at the window and then moved forward toward it with the effortless silent stealth of a black cat. Clutched in her right hand was a scythe, long-handled with a fierce curve of silver blade that glinted in the darkness.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 19, 2012 15:39:40 GMT -8
Red & White Demons Silently, the boy stood up from his hunched position. His ribs still ached, having only recently fused back together from a week ago. Threatening to clamber up against the cement ground and give away their position, the boy surprisingly pulled up his weapon very silently towards his chest, cradling it very carefully with a stealth that appeared to be very foreign to the boy. His back hunched, he looked at Vespyr's long, lithe finger pointing towards the building where the smoke had emulated from.
It had been a week since his failure to smash. The boy grinned with utmost seriousness---he would not fail her nor himself again. He had left behind his aviator jacket, preferring the black of his shirt, his jeans dirtied with dust he had found, to make him blend in a bit more. Keeping his hair down, the boy had a black bandana tied over it to keep himself more covertly placed, lest the error of slip of hair ruined things for the both of them.
Yes, the boy had been observing the way in which Vespyr had carried herself. Silent, mysterious...
...He had a whole week of lying on his back to ponder over his mistakes, how he might improve himself.
Patiently hunching forward, the boy's eye steeled as he prepared to stalk forward, to practice this silence.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 19, 2012 15:58:38 GMT -8
A Visit from the SS
There would come, all of a sudden, three loud knocks on the door of the apartment. Three brisk, silence-shattering beats that stopped the beating of the ten hearts inside. They stared at the door in horror.
“Zis ist ze Gestapo. Open ze door NOW.”
The voice was deep, emulating a particular German man’s, and authoritative to the point of being deadly. Standing in front of the closed door with a smirk on her lips was Vespyr, chuckling silently to herself. But she wouldn’t wait for them. Oh, no.
Just as the ten inside had begun to turn their confused, terrified stares toward each other, the sharply atrocious sound of splitting wood jolted their attention back to the door, where a long, menacingly curved blade had torn through like the talon of an eagle through the flesh of its hapless prey. It disappeared a moment later only to reappear again, again with the ear-splitting sound of screeching splinters. As it did so, someone screamed, drowning out the terrible sound for a moment as it happened yet again, this time accompanied by a peal of malicious cackling from behind the door. And then there was silence again, but only for a moment.
“Tuvlan, dear, smash the door.”
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 19, 2012 16:13:12 GMT -8
Send in Ze Shock Troopers! "ZERSCHLAGEN!? =D!?"
Busy sneaking the whole time, trying to keep his chest upright, the boy suddenly rose to full height. With his metal pipe in his hand, the boy would grab the bottom of the shaft with both hands and bring it directly down onto the door, hunching his whole back forward as he bent his knees. The door splintered into two, flecks of wood flying everywhere as the door's pieces would fly across the hallway, slamming into the end. Dust and debris would fly up in the boy's face, as he let out a satisfied look on his face.
He turned to Vespyr and smiled.
"...After you."
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 19, 2012 16:28:11 GMT -8
FEUER FREI.
“Danke, dearie.”
Vespyr smiled at him with grim courtesy and stepped nonchalantly through the doorway, the splintered halves of the door shifting and cracking beneath her boots. The girl’s violet stare loomed insidiously over the inhabitants of the room, counting ten, glinting with soon-to-be-wrought violence. No one spoke a word, but a man at the far end of the room stood up, gun in hand. He pointed it at her. She laughed.
“Do it.” she said, almost excitedly. The pistol trembled at the end of his arm, finger lingering over the trigger. His face was contorted. A woman and a small girl child clung, whimpering, to his legs.
“FUCKING DO IT.”
At this, Vespyr lunged at him, tucking her legs up to her chest as she jumped clear over two people who were huddled by the fire in the center of the room. The flames licked at the soles of her boots as she cleared it like a devil, the scythe reared behind her head and ready to strike. An instant before the arcing blade sliced clean across his shaking torso, the man’s finger desperately clenched the trigger of the gun.
Nothing happened.
Blood splattered violently against the wall. The man’s head and upper body followed, thudding against it before falling at his wife and child’s feet. Vespyr's boots slammed into the ground. Screams.
Laughter.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 19, 2012 22:28:50 GMT -8
Different Kind of "Play Time"~ The boy took a moment to stand himself up straight, trying not to hurt himself further. Trying to practice this "self-preservation" thing. That said, the boy quickly heard the screams and the boy quickened his pace, his tongue slipping out the side of his mouth as he trailed after Vespyr, stopping at the entrance of the room.
He smiled...
Absorbing.
Yes, just a week ago he had been in a fight to "smash" but the intent was not one of his usual playtime. It was layered with the undertone of killing. Final playtime. He looked at the way Vespyr had just killed a man, the men around them... and he knew. His smile grew on his face, as happily as ever---
---As he swung up his "Smash" stick and brought it into the face of the man who decided to try charging the insane-looking boy. The man caught the very tip of it in his face, his features imploding into his skull as loose liquid and blood exploded out and towards the boy, the man's left eyeball rolling to the boy's under the boy's left boot.
...He lowered it down, crushing it, before he brought up his stick again to swing at the next person to his right... All the while, smiling.
Especially to the little girl who clung so desperately to that girl.
'Don't you see? It's fun time!'
"Smassshhhh... x_^"
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 19, 2012 23:31:58 GMT -8
4/10
Vespyr took a moment to glance down at the girl child on the floor to her left. More nymph than child, with thin, gangling limbs and long flaxen hair all matted with blood and dirt, she couldn’t have been older than five or six. Wide blue eyes, petrified past the point of tears, were fixed on the gushing midsection of what had presumably been her father only seconds before. Vespyr could almost see the innocence ebbing away from the girl’s fragile being as the hot puddle of blood slicked in between the tiny toes. Sympathy was warranted.
But of course, there was none to be found. The moment of disinterested observation flitted away and Vespyr reached down with her left hand, curling her talons around the top of the child’s skull so that she could be plucked like a fresh radish from the floor. The sapling’s mother was entirely too mortified by the sight of her very recently late spouse’s upper half separated from his lower to stop her from being lifted in such a manner—lifted like a doll, her tiny feet dangling, red droplets clinging to her toes—
—Staring, staring at the violet-eyed hellion with a glazed emptiness about her impish blue hues—
Vespyr stared back at the smallish dangling human thing at the end of her lanky arm. The malicious grin had been wiped from her gaunt face, smeared off by an utterly deadpan visage that was more glaringly villainous than even the most twisted of razor-toothed smiles, somehow. Her dark eyes seemed translucent in the dim light, revealing the cold blood deep within them. With an aversive hiss through her sharp teeth, she twisted her thin torso a few quick degrees and flung the girl-child over her right shoulder.
The plaything would land, limply, on Tuvlan’s side of the room.
This action would not go unpunished, however; two men, presumably in their twenties, had risen to their feet and lunged toward Vespyr moments after she had chosen her infantile prey. Rage and fear flitted across their flame-lit faces as they closed in, one attempting to grab her by the back of her narrow neck while the other’s hands darted for the scythe. Out of the corner of her venomous gaze, she saw them and her slender limbs clicked like clockwork to counter them—left hand darting back toward its shoulder in a swift chopping motion to smack the man’s wrist against her own and thus knock it away for a moment—while the scythe-wielding arm merely had snap itself straight and swing backward, letting the crescent blade sink into the stomach of her second assailant.
Every movement was precise, calculated.
At the same moment her scythe embedded itself in the second man’s gut, the first man’s other hand met Vespyr’s left shoulder. As if spring-loaded, the girl twisted her upper body sharply to the left and backward, rocketing her bony left elbow into the man’s face and crushing his nasal cavity with the sheer velocity. Her spine emitted a pleasant crackle as she did so.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 20, 2012 16:16:02 GMT -8
7/10---Play Time ---The boy’s swing tore nicely into the top of the man’s head who was at his right side, his gray matter jumping into the air like a roughly opened hard-boiled egg. The “top shell” bounced off and to the corner of the room, adjacent to where the man was sitting, backflipping itself nicely onto the boy’s head as the man fell into a crumpled slump. The little “egg shell” was forsaken of its skin layer and for a moment, the boy simply stood, staring at the girl across the room, with nice, warm feeling at the top of his head. That very girl that the boy had kept his eye on during this whole time had been flung into the air. However, the boy's focus faded as he watched two more people charge at his Vespyr. It never snowed in Christmas. But in this little room, in the moment of the boy's immediate concern for Vespyr’s livelihood, he watched her turn her two attackers into rain. Bloody rain and masses of unmoving flesh.
Kicking off the shock-stricken little girl from his foot, so that she was flipped onto her derriere, staring rather helplessly as the boy raised up his “Smash” stick high above his head in a quick, but deliberately visible movement.
“Tag…”
The boy would bring the stick down onto the girl. She would cover her face at the last second, looking away, screaming as she turned away to the left, only to have the top exposed part of her head slammed into. There was a second where it visibly indented, giving way before the “stick” before it would rush back, exploding upwards the young girl’s scream ending abruptly as her right eye exited her head cavity, held on only by a string.
”…You’re it!”
But the boy’s movement stopped only for a second. His left foot had already begun stepping over the girl’s falling body and brought up the stick to head’s level easily before swinging it sideways…and into one of the less-than-willing playmates’ necks… A delightful “snapping” sound was heard as the thirty-something’s neck broke off only halfway.
“SMASH!”
“=D”
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 20, 2012 17:11:09 GMT -8
Deliverance of the Pious
The woman fainted before Vespyr had even the chance to lop her lolling head off her slumped shoulders. It was all over with a redundant spray of blood and the scythe-murderer turned in time to witness Tuvlan, sporting a literal skull cap, deal a crushing blow to the girl-child’s head. And then another.
That left two.
They were yet huddled by the fire, relying on futile prayers to protect them. Vespyr considered this: if there did happen to be any sort of ethereal Goodness at all in the world, it might have been able to save their souls, but not their bodies. They would find that the supernatural Hell they feared was here on earth. It would be this very room, consumed with fire that was nothing but natural, worldly. And the face of their loathed Angel of Darkness would be cadaverously pale with flame-flickering violet eyes.
Vespyr stepped over the litter of three-and-two-halves bodies. She stalked toward the center of the room where the fire licked blasphemously at the ceiling. With each step, the prayers began to sound more like desperate pleas, and then anguished cries. The two humans were sitting side-by-side in the fetal position, too frozen with fear to even look up at the face of the one who would deliver them to their doom.
Vespyr scowled in mock offense.
“This is the most important moment of your life. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time!”
No answer. She loomed behind them spectrally, glaring down at the tops of their heads.
“No bloody decency.”
With a firm kick at their arched backs she sent them rolling forward into the campfire; it was then that they began to shriek, which only furthered her argument. With their flailing limbs alight with ravenous flames, the two writhing bodies did a splendid job of igniting several spots along the floor. Tiny shoots of red and gold blaze expanded and united, some latching themselves onto the torn clothes of the other eight corpses. Within minutes, the entire building would be consumed by their hunger.
Vespyr averted her attention to Tuvlan as she moved toward the broken doorway.
“We’re done here.”
Black smoke had begun to billow out from the boarded-up window, where before it had been a mere trickle. Fanned by the wind, it dissipated into the cold night air.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 20, 2012 17:35:10 GMT -8
PLAY LIKE A MAN It was a robust sense of exhilaration that the boy did not normally feel. These playmates were unsuitable, but the he one he was actually playing along with was a wondrous spectacle to look at. The boy almost regretted not letting Vespyr have the whole room to herself, how she commanded the entire area, with her brilliant charisma, struck fear into her playmates eyes and struck them down with perfect precision. A harvester, picking her crops with her scythe. Fitting, poetic, beautiful.
Meanwhile, the boy bludgeoned and whacked away at these people with no other enjoyment aside from joy. His heart beat, he was alive, and none of the inhabitants here possessed even a pluck of killing capability that threatened the boy in the least. It was almost regrettable.
The Twins had put stress on the boy like no other, filled him with such painful feelings like he had not felt in so long. It was worth feeling again to get used to it… Meaning these people were worthless for anything aside from the pure joy of the moment.
…As though, the boy was only now feeding a hunger he had developed for the first time.
The woman at the end of the room collapsed before she was given a chance to be even properly played with, while two others opted not to play. With the skullcap sitting on the boy’s head, if anyone looked in his direction for even a moment, they would see him scoff---playmates that did not play were the worst kind. Ordinarily, he would leave them be. But Vespyr was introducing him to new things. She forced them to play, throwing them in to play with fire. And they caught.
The boy had more or less retreated to the entrance of the room while watching all of this, his mouth upturned into a smile, watching Vespyr at work… Until he looked down for a second. There was a perfectly dirty, but handcrafted doll with stitched eyes and stitched mouth that lay on the ground. It wore a dark maroon dress, its appendage-less limbs laying as masses of simple clothy-flesh. But the boy took note of it… and bent down, picking it up with his left hand, his right hand still gripping onto his “stick” close to his chest rather protectively. Red hair. A beautiful layer of what was and what is…
In this moment, the boy chose not to abandon her. He would look up at Vespyr’s order, quickly stuffing the doll rather delicately into his pocket, before following after her… as though never taking a moment to notice the glorious bonfire that was quickly leaping, growing, and expanding behind them, taking breath on its new, short-lived to-be life.
He would quickly run after Vespyr… still somewhat hunched.
“They were terrible playmates.
But as he looked on Vespyr, he thought on her actions, how she moved, how he perceived how she thought…
“Terrible playmates must be purged?” “=D?”
The boy would smile, looking still at Vespyr. He hoped the statement would please her… and therein affirm his new beliefs that he should take on upon himself. After all, if she was happy… he would be happy.
Speaking of which…
The boy fingered the doll in his pocket precariously for a moment. Remembering a tradition he had read about in a book rather recently.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 20, 2012 18:03:59 GMT -8
'The Purging'
Many pairs of wide eyes witnessed the girl and the boy exiting the building, which moments later sprang into utter inferno as flames burst through the window and the open doorway. The wind played deviously, gusting along to the dance of the vibrant flames and bringing the storm to new heights. Heat radiated into the night, permeating the frigid air, battling with it. Vespyr felt the alternating hot and cold breezes upon the back of her neck but ignored them, not bothering to take even a glance at the building as it was overwhelmed and consumed by the nature which she so admired. She had begun to cross the street.
“Quite right.”
The corners of her lips were upturned ever-so-slightly. ‘Purging’ was a good word for what they were doing. It was exactly what Vespyr had in mind, and it struck in her an insignificant note of positivity that Tuvlan should realize this. Though she still had yet to tell him why they were going about purging the streets. She supposed, at the moment, that it didn’t really matter. She had told no one of her plans. The time was not yet upon her to do so; she needed, first, to establish her “territory”. Therefore, the burning building at her back and the numerous bodies incinerating within it were only the beginning. There were… so many more buildings to explore. So many more bodies to do away with. It would be no easy task, and certainly wouldn’t be completed in one night, but Vespyr wasn’t fazed in the slightest. Mass murder was her sport. Terror was her trade. If they were smart and self-preserving, those people whom she had yet to kill would leave of their own accord before she came knocking on their door.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 20, 2012 20:44:44 GMT -8
THE HAPPIEST, MOST ADORABLE CHRISTMAS EVER The boy frolicked after Vespyr much like he did in the past weeks time. Almost dancing, ignorant of the many wandering, staring, accusing eyes that looked after them, as he trailed after the girl, excitement growing in his chest as he smiled more and more, while still keeping in just a following pace after the girl, as the building behind them continued to smolder higher, higher, happy with the abundance of fuel that it had to feed upon.
With enthusiasm growing to its peak, the boy would tap on Vespyr's shoulders, leaning over almost coyly, as he stared with an overly happy face...
"Smash... =D!"
"...Erm. Ehehehe. Vespyr."
With big swooping hands while still bent over, staring at her, the boy would offer the bloodstained doll he had found just minutes prior, offered in both of his bloodied hands.
"Merry... Christmas. x_^"
The fire caught onto a fuel line and proceeded to explode behind them, letting off a small fireball into the air, before receding back down, debris catching falling from the sky and crashing onto the boy's back, who showed absolute indifference to anything but the moment. Happy.
HAPPY.
=D
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Jan 21, 2012 1:50:46 GMT -8
Something Sincere
“Mm?”
Vespyr turned to look at the boy with the demure typical of felines, her skull on a subtle downward tilt and her face angled just enough to peer over her shoulder as she slid her violet iris to the outermost corner of her eye. Her catlike gaze met with the boy’s bloody hands, which she was tempted to lick, but now is not the time. Later… Besides, the object being clutched within those hands was of more immediate interest, as it was being offered to her directly. With a silently curious glint in her eye she reached up with one hand and held the doll, before Tuvlan would speak… And once he did, the corners of Vespyr’s mouth pulled into a non-smirking line, and she rolled her eyes.
Tempted to scoff and toss the thing over her shoulder into the flames where it belonged. But upon turning her annoyed, slit-eyed stare back to the boy’s genuinely happy face—genuine, of all the things it could or should have been under the circumstances—she found that she no longer had the urge to do so. The slight frown pulling at her lips loosened its hold and her eyes ceased their condescending squint. With all emotion now absent from her visage, Vespyr looked down at the doll she now held, distractedly letting her hands examine it while she contemplated for a moment the odd sentiment of the gift, and of the boy’s face. Unwittingly, she had stopped in the middle of the empty street.
She was in no way ‘touched’, or even mildly entertained by the silly innocence of the gesture, yet she was still faced with an agitating remora against her apathetic principles. “Christmas” in all its aspects was a thing concocted and practiced by fools. Under the tradition of this holiday, one was obliged to give gifts to his friends and family and even co-workers; even if he was sincerely wanted to and the gift was heartfelt, the fact still remained that there was a sort of unspoken obligation to, whether he wanted to or not. This struck Vespyr as nothing but idiotic, shallow, typical of humans. Couldn’t one simply give a gift and genuinely mean it, without being obligated to on any level, even by gratitude or empathy? Couldn’t “Christmas” be left out of it altogether?
“I’m going to forget you ever said that.”
…For the sake of not flicking him on the bridge of his nose, like she was obligated to by her own take on the Christmas sentiment. She was not refusing the gift, but merely accepting it as nothing more than all it had to be: not a Christmas gift; just a gift. Still, it was not this that stirred in her the feeling that could only be described as a quiet, almost disinterested utterance of, ‘Aw’. She did not actually utter this, only thought it for just a moment, but the doll was not the cause or culprit. No, it had been the sincere joy in Tuvlan’s face that had struck that faintly resonating note for a few moments. Out of tune and unfamiliar it was, but a sound still worth listening to for all its peculiar rarity and its brevity. Even after it had faded, Vespyr would keep the memory of it in the back of her mind. A thought for later, when she was alone, for at the moment it made her feel uncomfortably transparent.
She slipped the doll into her pocket and glanced up at Tuvlan expressionlessly. ‘Onward’, she seemed to say without uttering the words. Then she turned and continued her quiet, slender-legged strides across the empty street.
…suppose I'll raise the dosage of deliciousness in his soup from now on.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Jan 21, 2012 12:24:54 GMT -8
Ulterior Motive? Whassat? =D? There was a moment where, upon looking at the girl's change of expression from "relatively pleased" to "mildly irritated." As with the reckless nature of things, the boy did not often open up philosophical tennis matches with Vespyr and was thus jumping into completely unexplored territory for himself. But the boy's joyous face held fast, for as the Christmas gift stories he had often read, it played at the heart of what Vespyr was to the boy.
'You picked me off the street, just like that lifeless ragdoll.'
'You gave me a home and a place to eat.'
'You have taught me so many things.'
'Words cannot describe my thanks.'
It was in this empathetic respect that the boy held a small collection of misshapen toy soldiers and small, discarded dolls that were more than a simple hunk of plastic next to his mattress. Often with no one to sleep in comfort with, his mewling heart going out to the sad, disposed forms, the boy would look upon them, washing them when possible, tending them 'til their condition as toys and dolls actually improved somewhat. Somewhat. The boy had yet to actually learn any craftsmanship with a needle and thread, much less sustain the materials until recently.
The doll he picked up, he felt the urge to learn the skill for. It was brief in the moment that he had known it, but the boy's heart already went out to it. But if the scattered newspapers he happened upon were correct, the season sentimentality...
---There was an almost symbolic meaning in the way Vespyr, in spite of her complaints, took in the doll. The boy's ear perked, learning to... apparently, never bring up the question of Christmas ever again to her. But the boy's expression remained steadfast, for he took note of the action which spoke in volumes to him of her acceptance of his gift. His back heels alternated in stepping up and down in a small giddy thing, as he shook his hands as fists in front of himself, as soon as Vespyr turned away, facing onward again, out of the streets.
...Not to say that this was the only significant thing the boy gleaned from this whole experience, but...
The boy would frolic after her. Merrily.
"SMASH!"
"=D!"
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