I'm a Mango, I'm in Love

Oh, don't worry about that. It happens to dolls sometimes. You probably should not touch the thick black sludge it coughed up but it's okay, really. It just happens.

No, it doesn't gunk up this one's clockwork. O-oh, this one thought you knew. It doesn't have clockwork— it's more of a haunted porcelain doll than a wind up one.

No, it's alright, this one just... thought you knew it better than you did. It's okay.

Oh, one mome—hurghk

Yes, this one produced a little bit more. Do not worry about it.

No don't touch it. Seriously. Actually stop looking at it at all

Stop looking at the goo. Yes it's weird you can see yourself in— don't touch it!

This one is fine. It just does this sometimes, it told you.

No, you may not touch its cracks. They're sharp.

Stop looking at the sludge!

Why aren't you listening to this o— hrgck

Uuugh. This one would like to go home now.

It told you not to touch it!

Oh, that was definetely a mistake on your part. You could have probably survived with an amputation but it's all over you now.

You certainly are screaming a lot. At least it should be over soon.

You've never seen Jessica's face look like this. The expression that settles over her is alien; it's… calm, you think, but it's a hard calm, like something turned her racing heart to stone. It must be contagious, somehow; you feel that same stone drop in your stomach.

She sees the look you're giving her. Stands to her full height— you come up to her chin— and gazes down at you. Her expression quivers for just a split second with an emotion you can't identify.

"Honour is enough," she says. It doesn't make sense. Your sister would never say something like that. But after a moment your brain catches up. She's talking about the argument you had last night. She's saying that she plans to take the seat on the Princes' Council after all, to manage the family's lands and legal duties, consign herself to a political marriage, set aside everything she wanted, for… for what?

For you. Oh, Ancestors, she's going to sacrifice herself for you, to protect you from getting decommissioned as a political example.

You do the only thing you can think to do; you wait a beat, until a camera drone, picking up on the tension, positions itself to record the juicy highborn family drama and broadcast it to an audience of millions…

And you throw your arms around her long, slender neck, pull her down to your level. You kiss her. You tangle your fingers in her hair and you feel something in her moving through shock to confusion to fear, but that's not what's in control; like always, like always, the thing that moves your elder sister is want. She's still there. Maybe you're not quite you anymore, but she's still her.

You pull away, but you don't take your hands off of her. You stare into her eyes, but when you speak, you're projecting loud enough for the drone's microphone to pick you up.

"Fuck that. I'm not letting you do it alone. They wanted a scandal? They've got one. Jess— I'm not legally a person anymore. I'm technically the property of the reigning Prince of Ys. So we just need to make sure that's you."

"Phoebe, what the hell are you thinking?" Her dark eyes are wide, bloodshot.

A grin spreads across your face. The drone will already be broadcasting the data your systems have just sent out on the screens below, but your sister doesn't have a mistress' implant yet.

bird & berry

ink, watercolour

thief & vandal

a dancing automaton who is more than she looks like - Camellia (outfit in progress) opened up version under the cut