dear_mun | (no subject)

(no subject)

I can only hope you do not experience the great tragedy of becoming so much less fun when the master returns.

And do please allow me to "speak" with the little girl, also. She's a cautious little bug, you would have absolutely nothing to worry about, precious faun. I know that you know how apropos it would be, since you're feeling much the same way.

All this contempt is so sweet and delicious.

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[...And here's someone who is looking at her face and going "gosh, she's pretty." but if there was ever a creature made of a man's nightmares...

He should really stop staring. They don't like it when you stare. It's a doll. How do you invoke something like her?]

[Blink, blink. And then something like a curtsy tinged with a sinister smile. Doll nods her head, as a greeting, then turns away, batting her lashes, mock-shyly. Always with the faux-modesty. By all means. Keep staring.]

[This is how you get into this business. You get engrossed-you ask one too many questions and suddenly there is someone with a van at your door telling you either the best or worst news of your life.]

...Hi.

[pause] ...Please don't hurt me. I would offer you an offering but I uh-I don't have one.

[Hands spread wide]

...I am truly sorry about that.

[Offering? Offering... Tapping a finger to her pink, perfect lips, she wonders. Clearly, this is a befuddled, little sinner. She eyes his neck, his shoulders...his fingers. Plenty to chew on. Plenty to spit out.

The confusion reads on her face, too. She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head. What else could he possibly have brought her?]

I mean I don't know what your shtick is...but uh...shit if you give me five minutes I'm sure I could find a whore for you to...what do you do.

[She's a girl] ...Jocks are harder to come by. There's a guy I room with in the head who'd probably work for you, but he's sort of shaking his head violently.

Uh-

..What is your shtick. I'll find you someone proper. I swear. Just not uh-me.

[Whores? Jocks? Blink. Blink. Blink. He wants to give her toys? Please. She has plenty of both. And she rolls her eyes before flicking her wrist and waving off the suggestion. The dull suggestion. No one can give her a sinner, fool. She takes them when she wants and there's never a shortage.]

[This one is a sinner. A real sinner with delusions of power over life and death-and a lot of lives on his soul. Except he's staying far away.]

No huh?

...What do you do? [There is something about her. Something alluring. something mysterious.]

...I mean really. maim people? murder? I...I'm curious.

[Doll frowns and shakes her head, like this should be obvious. Both hands fly to her chests as she only half-feigns taking offense. Murder, indeed. Humans do that sort of thing to themselves.

She hands him a brochure. The Devil's Carnival, the first side reads. On the back is a sideshow poster with her likeness and her name: The Painted Doll. Through the picture-Doll's chest, there is a small slash. As if it had been pierced by a knife. But pay no mind.

Murder. She snorts, grinning, almost nostalgic. That was a very, very long time ago.]

[Are they all there? An entire cast of people? Hadley's eyes are getting wider and wider the more he looks at the photograph.]

...The Devil's Carnival.

[In his business you learn to love slaughter without really knowing what it means and even then denying it utterly. Still.]

...with clowns too? Lion tamers? Demonic lions?

[The literature in her hand, which had previously been two-sided and nothing more, seems to have sprouted a few more pages when no one was looking. Doll flips it open and, as he asks, points to the appropriate answers.

A spread, first, advertising the little clown girl and her minions. The next page, the Hobo Clown. And the Tamer, on whom she stops. Lions? No, she indicates with her head. Just attendees. And whoever he feels like granting a visit from that whip. She shudders, pleased at the thought.]

[...and because he can't stop thinking like a ~~sinner~~ attendee his next question might not be in the best of taste.]

...Is that a whip? and chains? ...Oh man you guys look so nice but I bet..

What's your success rate? Kill a lot of people?

[So small minded.]

[Nice? Who here looks nice? Did some of the attendees' posters pop up, in here? Doll flips through the mini-catalogue, quickly, to make sure. She lingers, briefly, on a page about her Scorpion, but ultimately flicks the picture in the face and shuts the booklet.

Her response is short, more bark than laughter. Kill? She raises an eyebrow. Is that what we think, now. Dear, stupid man. Leaning in, in case he is as simple as he seems, she pointedly shakes her head. Slowly. So he doesn't misunderstand again.]

...No kill. Just straight torture?

[Deepening frown.] None of you?

[Somewhere three sinners are screaming run at the top of their lungs.]

[Finally, we're catching on. With bright eyes and a smile ready to burst across her face, Doll nods, equally as slow. To quote a cliche, you can't kill what's already dead, but you can certainly have fun pretending to.]

...I'd still love to know how.

[He is a sick fuck isn't he? Plans and plots. Would the gods give them their own carnival if they asked nicely? ...It'd be an easy scenario but the problem with the intellectual is that they can't see past logic and reason. It stands to reason that these people would die eventually if inflicted in a sort of beautiful torture. Logically they'd have to die (logistically it'd be easy.)]

Pretty enough to blow Japan out of the water.

[How? Oh, how! Doll bats her eyelashes and claps her hands. A demonstration! She flourishes them in front of her, presenting to him, the apparent sinner, herself, then curtsies like the ballerina she might have been. Or might have been modeled after. Or...

With a beckoning finger, she motions him closer to her. An attendee with a front row seat, how exciting this will be!]

[Boldly go. That was NASA's motto. And like the scientist he was he takes one step forward, and then another.]

[Doll puckers her lips and makes an exaggerated kissing noise, almost cartoonishly unrealistic. But her lids are all a-flutter and she's craning her neck, putting her perfect, pink lips very near his. I dare you.]

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