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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[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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