The spotted one

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☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“If it’s only for a moment, it means that my success is short-lived. Nobody would believe me; they’d think I was a madman! Well… madder than they already think I am…! No matter, I’ll still try, a-and if I succeed, then I’ll show them! I’ll show them all…!” He wasn’t quite sure how to feel; but knew that there was a 50/50 chance of success. Although, failure was an option, and was equally as probable. 

The doctor hoped it was anything but that.

“Madra, how would I be able to improve it if it’s only for a single moment? The secret of life… It’s more than just resurrecting something and calling it a day! It’s more complicated than that!”

“Well... I would believe you regardless Doc.” Madra tried to reassure him as she was well aware of how normal people would look down on science... sometimes even seeing it hand in hand with witchcraft.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“A scientific breakthrough? It is most definitely a scientific breakthrough! Can you believe it? A man, creating life with his own two hands! It’d be… Astounding!” The doctor exclaimed, his disposition suddenly changing from solemn to excitement. He clasped his hands together in glee, joyous from the mere thought of what rewards and respect that his creation would bring him.

Junkenstein’s frown soon returned, worry evident in his expression. “But…” He began, barely above a whisper, “… What if he only lives for a moment? Would I be considered a fool for it?”

“Well... this is coming from a literal human chimera and I agree- this is basically just making a homunculus but without alchemy. It’s very fascinating.” She agreed with a slight fanged smile. Madra was a woman of science, this was the kind of stuff she used to be all over in. She was also amused since she had never seen him so ‘exited’ before.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Golems? I’m not sure what those are, but I’ll just trust you.” They sounded much like something out of a folktale, something like the stories his parents told him when he was a small child. Jamison felt that his creature was more of a being of chaos and destruction, but each to their own.

He frowned. 

“I wouldn’t consider it a noble cause, Madra.” The doctor said, “I only want to see if it’s possible.” Many people before him had attempted at creating life but failed. Junkenstein was determined to succeed; even if the results were catastrophic. 

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“R-right. I mean, I should tell you since you’re a friend. It’s…” He hesitated for a moment, worried her reaction would be bad. “It’s a creature I made with my own two hands. I plan on resurrecting it and giving it life.” 

Was it a crazy idea? Yes. Would he most likely be hung if the Lord were to find out? Yes. Would the doctor risk it all just to create life? He’d do anything to prove he wasn’t crazy; even if it involved him dying. Determination worked in strange ways – for the doctor, it even went to lengths of murder and chaos to achieve his goal. 

“That’s it. That’s what I am working on.” It was hard to admit that the concept sounded much more realistic in writing; but in actuality? It was impossible. Junkenstein knew she’d most likely consider him mad, insane, – whatever word people were using to describe him behind his back that day – a lunatic. Jamison was used to it, after all. 

She could tell he was nervous, she wondered why he was so secretive about this- I couldn’t have been that bad... and then she heard what he was making.

Instead of rejection her green eyes practically gleamed with amusement.

“Ooh so it’s like a mixture between a golem and a homunculus how fascinating.” Madra grinned as she seemed to go into thought. To her this was legit science, he was working with something dead and not live so by her standards this was fine.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“It’s fine, Madra. I don’t need to eat. Maybe later, but not now.” The doctor was making up excuses at that point. He wasn’t interested in eating, he was more interested in his friend’s story than anything else. 

“I’ve been going around places as well. The longest I stayed in one place was when I was a child in Berlin.” Although Berlin wasn’t technically German, so to say; Junkenstein’s parents had told him he was born in Frankfurt and they ended up moving to Berlin due to his father getting a job in the city around two years later. After about fourteen years in Berlin, the doctor had run away at sixteen, going back to Frankfurt to study science. (Then there was his exchange program when he was nineteen, going to London until he turned twenty.) After, the doctor went to Adlersbrunn, and stayed there since.

His eyes widened when she asked the dreaded question. This whole project of his… His creation… It was supposed to be a secret! 

“How am I to trust that if I tell you, you wouldn’t tell anyone else?” Junkenstein asked, suspicion in his tone.

“Ugh you are helpless... I guess all I can do is tell you to eat something later but you better.” Madra crossed her arms as she then heard out his story, it confirmed that he was technically German given his accent.

However when he seemed to panic a bit at her question she simply raised a brow.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Your situation is much different than mine. I am merely outcasted, but you are hunted down. I don’t believe we have the same situation, but I do understand the feeling of rejection.” The doctor said, frown deepening. Compared to Madra, his entire ‘being an outcast’ situation was like a walk in the park. Albeit a park that constantly humiliated him, but still a park. 

“As for you murdering some hunters and suspicious villagers? That surely does explain the few people that went missing.” It certainly did clear up his suspicions, but he wouldn’t blame Madra for it. The people who went missing were jerks, and most likely deserved it.  “Although, I personally wouldn’t eat a person’s arm, I’m sure that in your case, it would be cannibalism, as you are still technically human.” It would be strange and very wrong, even with the unspecified amount of animal that was in the chimera.

Junkenstein sighed. “I don’t need to eat all that much, don’t worry. I can find some food when I need it, alright? I’m not starving myself, you know. I’m just too busy for trivial things like eating and sleeping.”

“Aye good observation. I’m not exactly updated with society seeing that most of my life I lived on an island and after that fiasco I mostly live in the woods now and never stayed for long in a place... I think this is the longest I’ve stayed in one spot.” She shrugged for a moment before shaking her head a bit at his comment of not needing food. She knew that was a big lie, same could be said of his terrible sleeping habits. She reasoned that he was so used to this destructive behavior that his body just rolled with it.

“You look scrawny I say you are, do eat something Jamison at least a handful of peanuts. I’d hate to see my only friend here end up malnourished it does terrible things to you.” She insisted as she called him by name this time, a first. For the most part she had simply called him Doc or Doctor.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Why would I kill a friend? It shouldn’t matter whether you are human or creature, you’re still you, Madra. I mean, people try to kill me all of the time! I just… don’t let them.” It worked on the occasion, but the rest of the time involved the doctor hiding away in his cottage until everything died down.

“The Lord is quite a jerk, but I do work for him, and he does fund my projects; although he has a severe dislike for them.” The doctor said, almost defending the Lord. “However, he does deserve to be stolen from. He has been hoarding food for God knows how long! One winter, our village almost starved while he feasted!” It was absolutely horrendous, but that’s how life was in the small village of Adlersbrunn.  

“As for eating like a king? I’ll pass. I don’t eat much as is, and I would rather not get sick from eating too much.” Jamison already disliked eating already, the doctor considering it a distraction from his work and preferred not to eat unless he absolutely had to. “But thank you for the offer, my friend.”

“Well don’t act like you don’t know how humans act when they see something they can’t comprehend. Though I am beyond glad to see someone who sees beyond that. Guess everyone who is treated as an outcast by people know how it feels.” She nodded a bit as she went through the bag of stolen goods. She was pretty sure this would last for some two weeks even with her biological demands for mostly meat.

However at the mention of not letting one get killed she chuckled. “Oh I know that part, I’ve had to off some hunters or villagers from time to time who just wouldn’t leave me be. Honestly they should have known better animals strike back when cornered... though I do wonder would ripping someone's arm off and eating it count as cannibalism in my case?” She said with a bit of curiosity before bursting into laughter with a slight ‘growl’ undertone to it.

“Aha just kidding, humans are probably the most disgusting and unhealthy thing on the meat menu.” She quickly joked as she then shook her head at him denying himself food again. Honestly she had little clue how he could pull that off.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Well, yes, you’re still human, but at the same time, you’re not. But I wouldn’t consider you a monster, though.” To him, Madra wasn’t something to be feared, but admired and respected. After all, she had been through a lot.

“So you’ve been stealing from the Lord’s storage? It makes me wish that I had thought of that before. How come his guard dogs haven’t caught you yet?” The doctor inquired, now curious. “Surely he’s suspecting somebody is stealing his food.”

“Hmm... I suppose that’s a fair assumption. Neither humans nor animals seem to accept what I am at a glance. However I do appreciate you not trying to kill me right now. Last time I trusted a so called ‘friend’ they tried to kill me with a pitchfork and then got the whole village to hunt me down under accusations of a demon.” She said with a relieved and long shaky sigh as she clearly had expected the same reaction from him.

However at the mention of her ‘thievery’ escapades she couldn’t help but chuckle and grin a bit... revealing some rather long fangs and sharper looking teeth. This was one reason why she never really smiled or grinned. “Yes, he sounds like a jerk who treats you like a slave and doesn't appreciate your work either. So when I found my way into his storage room I helped myself. As for the dogs they fear me, I smell like a strange predatory creature and they keep their distance... though on occasion one gets brave like the one that got my arm this time but I quickly show them their place with a quick scratch. Last time I checked humans don’t have claws and can climb a 40 foot wall. Next time he calls you to the castle he will very likely think it’s a raccoon issue. I always make sure to make it all look like a rather cunning animal did it.” She said proudly and casually. She felt like she was doing good with how she on purpose thwarted every small pest trap that had been left in there at that point.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“My God… He did all of that so he could create ‘the perfect human’? Why, you’re barely human at all!” Her whole story sounded like it came out of a science fiction novel, or even a film.

“And you don’t resent him for basically torturing you for all those years?” The doctor asked, worry and fury in his voice. If this is why Madra was afraid to take off her cloak, then the doctor completely understood. He was definitely concerned for her wellbeing, but if she was accepting of what she was now, then he didn’t wish to bring up old memories to change that.

“So… you’re a mix of a lot of creatures? What kinds?”

“I… I’m still human despite this. I’m just heavily altered, I still think like a human do I not?” She told him with a slight shrug and a frown. At least she didn’t feel afraid for her own life… the last time she had shown a so called ‘friend’ what she was she nearly ended up with a pitchfork impaled into her gut. This is why she had so much trouble trusting people, she believed humans were untrustworthy for nature and would always fear things they couldn’t understand.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Well, yes. Moreaux was very skilled in his craft. I even looked up to him as a child, but I decided that role models weren’t worth it and decided to figure things out from another source of inspiration.” He commented with a slight shrug of the shoulders. (As for his noticing of her extreme strength and durability, the doctor knew something was up but never found it to be important.)

“As for the your condition, why would I tell anyone? It’s not like anyone talks to or listens to me. Your ‘secret’ is safe with me.” It couldn’t be that big of a secret, right? It was probably something along the lines of albinism or another genetic condition, he assumed, not knowing that it was definitely much more than something like albinism.

“Heh... well that’s an interesting bit of information. Had you followed through with the idolization you probably would have been a veterinarian.” She chuckled a bit as she shoved her hands into her pockets and seemed to go into thought as they came back to the cottage.

“Hmm... good point. But still last time I ‘showed’ anyone I ended up being chased out by flaming pitchforks and accused of being a monster. The hunters still follow me but I think they might believe I’m dead after they shot my shoulder.” She said as she clearly seemed a bit nervous, oh how she wished her ‘issue’ would have been something like albinism. That stuff was practically normal compared to what she really had.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Well, it was a lot of bribery and work that got me where I am. And, well, the loss of about… two limbs.” The doctor said with a small laugh and a slight motion to his fake arm and leg. “You learn to get used to the differences in your body and life eventually, though.” 

“Moreaux sounds like both a terrible man and a kind man, yet he intrigues me at the same time. Do tell me more of this ‘lab incident’ inside, alright?” The doctor asked with a kind tone of voice, motioning for her to follow. 

Glancing at his mechanical limbs she figured as much, but she could agree that having some replacements was better than nothing... but she figured that mechanical limbs would be seen as more acceptable than the ‘alterations’ she had gotten. “Well I suppose I can say that I lost a few things but you know how Bio-Alchemists are and a mad genius like Moreaux was quite skilled with his craft.” She chuckled a bit as she followed him back to the cottage. She figured that by now he would have noticed that she appeared to be much more durable and stronger than she looked. Hell the dog bite to her arm didn’t seem to bother her much at all.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Worrying is what I do best, my friend. Well, asides from building machines, that is.” The doctor said with a worried smile, constantly checking the path to the cottage to make sure it was safe. 

“I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen. I don’t think I understand what you went through, but I do know what it’s like to be on your own for a long time.” It was a long story, though, and Junkenstein didn’t want to dwell on it.

Madra kept silent as she tilted her head downwards a bit to evade eye contact for a moment. She felt a bit of embarrassment and conflict of course, at this point she wanted to call him a friend too but... last time she had been in a similar scenario and her ‘friend’ had ended up rallying the entire town into a monster hunting mob the moment she saw what her ‘odd’ friend really was.

She supposed that the ‘werewolf’ accusations had come from there.

Sliding her gloved hands into her pocket she sighed a bit at his second comment. “That sounds harsh, but at least you are still alive so you must be doing something right. And you got a place to live in even if it is far from perfect given the people around here but humans are always like that. Anything ‘different’ is out of their comfort zone.” She said ‘different’ with a bit of a bitter tone. If anything years of isolation and harsh reality had made her very distrusting and hateful towards common villagers.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

☽ = wandering alone at night .

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had been worried about Madra for a few hours now. She hadn’t returned to his cottage, and in his own opinion, it was late. Extremely late.

He sighed, knowing he had to go and find his friend.

Junkenstein ventured out of the cottage and walked around the border of the forest, until he eventually found her.

“Madra…? Are you alright?” He asked, hoping she could hear him. (It was from a distance, and he was talking quietly.) He noticed she was out alone, and was holding her face. And coating her hand was a blackish substance. Blood.

“Yes, I worry about you! You just vanish in the middle of the night, and it’s just odd!” The doctor exclaimed, gesturing to the girl. “I get worried sick!” 

And as for the dog bite she had, the doctor sighed. It wasn’t that big of a bite, but he was starting to run out of bandages. (There had been a ‘work-related incident’ earlier that day, and it caused him to use up most of his medical supplies.)

“Just come inside, alright?”

Madra’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she felt a bit embarrassed at his statement. Lowering to hide her face under her cowl a bit she couldn’t help but think ‘yeah right, if you really knew what I was you’d probably just run and scream like everyone else’

Sighing a bit in defeat she figured she should just play along. She should be grateful to him for giving her a roof to hide under until she got kicked out or something.