(Dove/Multimuse)

@siempreminta Vox didn’t answer immediately.He watched her instead—the way her eyes lit up not just with approval, but with ideas, already moving three steps ahead, already building something bigger out of what he’d made. Then he nodded, slow and deliberate.

“I agree. we won’t aim for ‘close,’” he said smoothly. We’ll redefine the standard. " He’d expected approval. Maybe a sharp nod. A quick, “not bad.” At most, a measured kind of praise filtered through her usual standards.

Velvette loved fashion—lived it, breathed it, built herself around it. She was a designer down to her bones, which meant her expectations weren’t just high— They were brutal. So he’d accounted for that.

Refined every line. Reworked every proportion. Adjusted, recalibrated, perfected until there was nothing left to improve without starting over entirely. “I will design mine, hand you the blueprints,” Vox said, voice smooth and even, slipping back into that controlled cadence he wore like armor. “I commissioned a designer who works for Asmodeus for that outfit—but the concept was mine. I left the execution to someone else.” He stepped closer, gesturing lightly to the spread of schematics across her table. “I have a company to run, Velvette. I don’t have time to sit in front of a sewing machine.”

A beat. Then, quieter—deliberate: “There’s nobody in Hell I trust more than you to bring designs to life.” It wasn’t embellished. Not dressed up. Just… placed there. Carefully.

“In return,” he continued, tone sharpening with purpose, slipping into something more familiar—more powerful, “I will expand your reach. Not just increase it—optimize it.” His screen flickered, data cascading faintly beneath the surface. “Algorithmic trend prediction. I can track what Hell is responding to in real time. Mass projection—your outfits won’t just be worn, they’ll be seen everywhere at once. Screens, broadcasts, loops, repetition until they’re unavoidable.”

He didn’t deflect it. He didn’t reroute it into something safer, something transactional, or something he could package neatly and file away under strategy or gain. It stayed exactly where it was: unoptimized.

Because confidence—hers, in him—wasn’t something he could quantify as easily as numbers, trends, or control. And neither was his, in her.

He paused, letting the concept settle before diving back in. "Embedded signal threads. Low-frequency broadcast pulses—harmless, but perceptible on a subconscious level. The outfit doesn’t just attract attention… it sustains it. Think of it as audience retention, but wearable.”

A beat. Then, almost as an afterthought—

A brief pause thinking, calculating. Then continues on. Fully aware of her arms around his, doesn't mind at all.

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

“A decentralized system,” Vex says. A pause. He doesn’t stop there. “Distributed input. Variable contributors. Pattern emergence through repetition. Influence nodes could be identified. High-impact individuals—greater output weight. Feedback loops would accelerate adoption,” he adds. “Trends could be guided rather than awaited.”

“Guided.” Malcor repeats it, more focused now. Her pencil stills. “Elaborate.”

“A feedback loop that allows controlled influence over the system through subtle signal adjustment.”

“Subtle signal,” she repeats. “Not direct intervention"

“Correct,” Vex says. “Input remains distributed. Perception of autonomy is preserved. Minor adjustments to high-impact nodes would propagate through the network Outcome shifts without overt control.”

" Efficient. " Malcor gives a tiny nod approvingly. "Guided inspiration,” she murmurs interested. " Then,input can be influenced without restricting output.”

Vex responds immediately. “Correct. Constraint becomes unnecessary if initial conditions are properly calibrated.” He reaches for the book without looking away from the idea, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Pages turn in quick succession beneath his fingers. He isn’t admiring the designs—he’s scanning them. Patterns. Repetition. Recurrence across eras. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. " No frame. It lacks structural continuity. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. “No frame… yet it persists.”

A pause.

Malcor nods, turning this over carefully. “So what does it do?”

Silence.

That question lingers longer than the others. Vex slows, the page half-turned beneath his hand. “It does not perform a singular function,” he says at last.

Malcor’s gaze sharpens. “Then it has multiple.”

“Variable,” he corrects. “Context-dependent.” A beat. Malcor considers. “List them.”

Vex pauses. “It signals identity.”

Malcor nods slightly. “…Yes.”

“It influences perception.”

“Agreed.”

“It reflects and alters collective preference.”

A longer pause. Malcor’s pencil lowers. “…So it does not stabilize.”

“No.” Vex says. “It does not standardize.”

“No.” Another beat. “It changes.”

Vex finally looks at the sketch again. “Yes.”

Silence. Malcor processes that. "Then its function is not control

“Then,” Malcor says slowly, “if the system is collective input… iterative exchange… generation through interpersonal variance…”

She trails off, as if the idea is finally beginning to settle into place.

Vex watches her, unusually still.

“A dynamic, self‑sustaining network,” he murmurs. “Outputs shaped by shared contribution. Influence distributed. No central authority. But if interpersonal variance is the primary generator, then stabilizing the variance would dramatically improve predictability.

Malcor looks up, intrigued again. “Stabilize variance?”

“Minimize noise in the exchange,” Vex explains. “Streamline input sources. Reduce fluctuation.”

She pauses. Then, without ceremony, she retrieves the tablet again. " You wanted a design. Then that's what you will get. Paper is not efficient,” Malcor continues, tone even, unbothered. “Iteration speed is limited. Error correction is slower.” Malcor doesn't wait for her to react then says." Let's go Vex"

Without another word, they leave.

One hour later, the door opens, Malcor walks back in joined by Vex. What she's made isn't clothing.

It is a figure—sleek, upright, humanoid in silhouette. Its frame is seamless, lines flowing like tailored seams rather than joints. Layered plating mimics draped fabric, shifting subtly with each step. It looks like fashion. It is not.

Malcor stops in the center of the room and gives a tiny nod. “A wearable system, prototype" The figure stills beside her.

A beat.

The next day. The door opens again, she walks back in with Vex and the prototype returns. “It has been adjusted,” Malcor says calmly.

The bot smiles. It’s precise, measured—every angle correct, every movement smooth. And completely wrong. There’s no warmth behind it, no softness in the eyes, no delay, no hesitation—just a perfectly executed expression. Engineered happiness. Slightly threatening.

“Emotional parameters have been integrated.” Vex explains.

She erases the file on the tablet.

“If the pattern is consistent, replication is possible,” Malcor says, mostly talking to herself as her fingers fly across the tablet. “Emotions are consistent. There are patterns.” Lines of code scroll rapidly.

Vex looks at her thoughtfully. "The bot will observe. Track. Predict. Mirror.”

" Precisely" Malcor says. " It will study, learn emotions. The more it interacts the more it learns. It learns more then emotion too."

Vex considers this for a long moment.Then—He nods. "Then it must be enabled. The system requires interaction to evolve."

Fingers move again.

Lines of code scroll.

The bot’s expression shifts again.

Warmer.

More natural.

Almost too human.

“No, no, nooo…” he mumbled, waving a nacho at Loona like he was making a very important correction. “Not you, Loonie.” He pointed directly at Tamara—or at least somewhere vaguely in her direction.

“T...she's my sister.” He nodded firmly, pleased with this conclusion. Krix squinted at Tamara for several long seconds as though examining a complex scientific mystery.

“…but she's not red. She's a funny-lookin' Imp.”

The statement was delivered with complete sincerity.

He stared at her another moment.

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

“A decentralized system,” Vex says. A pause. He doesn’t stop there. “Distributed input. Variable contributors. Pattern emergence through repetition. Influence nodes could be identified. High-impact individuals—greater output weight. Feedback loops would accelerate adoption,” he adds. “Trends could be guided rather than awaited.”

“Guided.” Malcor repeats it, more focused now. Her pencil stills. “Elaborate.”

“A feedback loop that allows controlled influence over the system through subtle signal adjustment.”

“Subtle signal,” she repeats. “Not direct intervention"

“Correct,” Vex says. “Input remains distributed. Perception of autonomy is preserved. Minor adjustments to high-impact nodes would propagate through the network Outcome shifts without overt control.”

" Efficient. " Malcor gives a tiny nod approvingly. "Guided inspiration,” she murmurs interested. " Then,input can be influenced without restricting output.”

Vex responds immediately. “Correct. Constraint becomes unnecessary if initial conditions are properly calibrated.” He reaches for the book without looking away from the idea, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Pages turn in quick succession beneath his fingers. He isn’t admiring the designs—he’s scanning them. Patterns. Repetition. Recurrence across eras. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. " No frame. It lacks structural continuity. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. “No frame… yet it persists.”

A pause.

Malcor nods, turning this over carefully. “So what does it do?”

Silence.

That question lingers longer than the others. Vex slows, the page half-turned beneath his hand. “It does not perform a singular function,” he says at last.

Malcor’s gaze sharpens. “Then it has multiple.”

“Variable,” he corrects. “Context-dependent.” A beat. Malcor considers. “List them.”

Vex pauses. “It signals identity.”

Malcor nods slightly. “…Yes.”

“It influences perception.”

“Agreed.”

“It reflects and alters collective preference.”

A longer pause. Malcor’s pencil lowers. “…So it does not stabilize.”

“No.” Vex says. “It does not standardize.”

“No.” Another beat. “It changes.”

Vex finally looks at the sketch again. “Yes.”

Silence. Malcor processes that. "Then its function is not control

“Then,” Malcor says slowly, “if the system is collective input… iterative exchange… generation through interpersonal variance…”

She trails off, as if the idea is finally beginning to settle into place.

Vex watches her, unusually still.

“A dynamic, self‑sustaining network,” he murmurs. “Outputs shaped by shared contribution. Influence distributed. No central authority. But if interpersonal variance is the primary generator, then stabilizing the variance would dramatically improve predictability.

Malcor looks up, intrigued again. “Stabilize variance?”

“Minimize noise in the exchange,” Vex explains. “Streamline input sources. Reduce fluctuation.”

She pauses. Then, without ceremony, she retrieves the tablet again. " You wanted a design. Then that's what you will get. Paper is not efficient,” Malcor continues, tone even, unbothered. “Iteration speed is limited. Error correction is slower.” Malcor doesn't wait for her to react then says." Let's go Vex"

Without another word, they leave.

One hour later, the door opens, Malcor walks back in joined by Vex. What she's made isn't clothing.

It is a figure—sleek, upright, humanoid in silhouette. Its frame is seamless, lines flowing like tailored seams rather than joints. Layered plating mimics draped fabric, shifting subtly with each step. It looks like fashion. It is not.

Malcor stops in the center of the room and gives a tiny nod. “A wearable system, prototype" The figure stills beside her.

A beat.

The next day. The door opens again, she walks back in with Vex and the prototype returns. “It has been adjusted,” Malcor says calmly.

The bot smiles. It’s precise, measured—every angle correct, every movement smooth. And completely wrong. There’s no warmth behind it, no softness in the eyes, no delay, no hesitation—just a perfectly executed expression. Engineered happiness. Slightly threatening.

“Emotional parameters have been integrated.” Vex explains.

She erases the file on the tablet.

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

“A decentralized system,” Vex says. A pause. He doesn’t stop there. “Distributed input. Variable contributors. Pattern emergence through repetition. Influence nodes could be identified. High-impact individuals—greater output weight. Feedback loops would accelerate adoption,” he adds. “Trends could be guided rather than awaited.”

“Guided.” Malcor repeats it, more focused now. Her pencil stills. “Elaborate.”

“A feedback loop that allows controlled influence over the system through subtle signal adjustment.”

“Subtle signal,” she repeats. “Not direct intervention"

“Correct,” Vex says. “Input remains distributed. Perception of autonomy is preserved. Minor adjustments to high-impact nodes would propagate through the network Outcome shifts without overt control.”

" Efficient. " Malcor gives a tiny nod approvingly. "Guided inspiration,” she murmurs interested. " Then,input can be influenced without restricting output.”

Vex responds immediately. “Correct. Constraint becomes unnecessary if initial conditions are properly calibrated.” He reaches for the book without looking away from the idea, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Pages turn in quick succession beneath his fingers. He isn’t admiring the designs—he’s scanning them. Patterns. Repetition. Recurrence across eras. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. " No frame. It lacks structural continuity. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. “No frame… yet it persists.”

A pause.

Malcor nods, turning this over carefully. “So what does it do?”

Silence.

That question lingers longer than the others. Vex slows, the page half-turned beneath his hand. “It does not perform a singular function,” he says at last.

Malcor’s gaze sharpens. “Then it has multiple.”

“Variable,” he corrects. “Context-dependent.” A beat. Malcor considers. “List them.”

Vex pauses. “It signals identity.”

Malcor nods slightly. “…Yes.”

“It influences perception.”

“Agreed.”

“It reflects and alters collective preference.”

A longer pause. Malcor’s pencil lowers. “…So it does not stabilize.”

“No.” Vex says. “It does not standardize.”

“No.” Another beat. “It changes.”

Vex finally looks at the sketch again. “Yes.”

Silence. Malcor processes that. "Then its function is not control

“Then,” Malcor says slowly, “if the system is collective input… iterative exchange… generation through interpersonal variance…”

She trails off, as if the idea is finally beginning to settle into place.

Vex watches her, unusually still.

“A dynamic, self‑sustaining network,” he murmurs. “Outputs shaped by shared contribution. Influence distributed. No central authority. But if interpersonal variance is the primary generator, then stabilizing the variance would dramatically improve predictability.

Malcor looks up, intrigued again. “Stabilize variance?”

“Minimize noise in the exchange,” Vex explains. “Streamline input sources. Reduce fluctuation.”

She pauses. Then, without ceremony, she retrieves the tablet again. " You wanted a design. Then that's what you will get. Paper is not efficient,” Malcor continues, tone even, unbothered. “Iteration speed is limited. Error correction is slower.” Malcor doesn't wait for her to react then says." Let's go Vex"

Without another word, they leave.

One hour later, the door opens, Malcor walks back in joined by Vex. What she's made isn't clothing.

It is a figure—sleek, upright, humanoid in silhouette. Its frame is seamless, lines flowing like tailored seams rather than joints. Layered plating mimics draped fabric, shifting subtly with each step. It looks like fashion. It is not.

Malcor stops in the center of the room and gives a tiny nod. “A wearable system, prototype" The figure stills beside her.

A beat.

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

“A decentralized system,” Vex says. A pause. He doesn’t stop there. “Distributed input. Variable contributors. Pattern emergence through repetition. Influence nodes could be identified. High-impact individuals—greater output weight. Feedback loops would accelerate adoption,” he adds. “Trends could be guided rather than awaited.”

“Guided.” Malcor repeats it, more focused now. Her pencil stills. “Elaborate.”

“A feedback loop that allows controlled influence over the system through subtle signal adjustment.”

“Subtle signal,” she repeats. “Not direct intervention"

“Correct,” Vex says. “Input remains distributed. Perception of autonomy is preserved. Minor adjustments to high-impact nodes would propagate through the network Outcome shifts without overt control.”

" Efficient. " Malcor gives a tiny nod approvingly. "Guided inspiration,” she murmurs interested. " Then,input can be influenced without restricting output.”

Vex responds immediately. “Correct. Constraint becomes unnecessary if initial conditions are properly calibrated.” He reaches for the book without looking away from the idea, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Pages turn in quick succession beneath his fingers. He isn’t admiring the designs—he’s scanning them. Patterns. Repetition. Recurrence across eras. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. " No frame. It lacks structural continuity. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. “No frame… yet it persists.”

A pause.

Malcor nods, turning this over carefully. “So what does it do?”

Silence.

That question lingers longer than the others. Vex slows, the page half-turned beneath his hand. “It does not perform a singular function,” he says at last.

Malcor’s gaze sharpens. “Then it has multiple.”

“Variable,” he corrects. “Context-dependent.” A beat. Malcor considers. “List them.”

Vex pauses. “It signals identity.”

Malcor nods slightly. “…Yes.”

“It influences perception.”

“Agreed.”

“It reflects and alters collective preference.”

A longer pause. Malcor’s pencil lowers. “…So it does not stabilize.”

“No.” Vex says. “It does not standardize.”

“No.” Another beat. “It changes.”

Vex finally looks at the sketch again. “Yes.”

Silence. Malcor processes that. "Then its function is not control

“Then,” Malcor says slowly, “if the system is collective input… iterative exchange… generation through interpersonal variance…”

She trails off, as if the idea is finally beginning to settle into place.

Vex watches her, unusually still.

“A dynamic, self‑sustaining network,” he murmurs. “Outputs shaped by shared contribution. Influence distributed. No central authority. But if interpersonal variance is the primary generator, then stabilizing the variance would dramatically improve predictability.

Malcor looks up, intrigued again. “Stabilize variance?”

“Minimize noise in the exchange,” Vex explains. “Streamline input sources. Reduce fluctuation.”

She pauses. Then, without ceremony, she retrieves the tablet again. " You wanted a design. Then that's what you will get. Paper is not efficient,” Malcor continues, tone even, unbothered. “Iteration speed is limited. Error correction is slower.” Malcor doesn't wait for her to react then says." Let's go Vex"

Without another word, they leave.

One hour later, the door opens, Malcor walks back in joined by Vex. What she's made isn't clothing.

It is a figure—sleek, upright, humanoid in silhouette. Its frame is seamless, lines flowing like tailored seams rather than joints. Layered plating mimics draped fabric, shifting subtly with each step. It looks like fashion. It is not.

Malcor stops in the center of the room and gives a tiny nod. “A wearable system, prototype" The figure stills beside her.

A beat.

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

“A decentralized system,” Vex says. A pause. He doesn’t stop there. “Distributed input. Variable contributors. Pattern emergence through repetition. Influence nodes could be identified. High-impact individuals—greater output weight. Feedback loops would accelerate adoption,” he adds. “Trends could be guided rather than awaited.”

“Guided.” Malcor repeats it, more focused now. Her pencil stills. “Elaborate.”

“A feedback loop that allows controlled influence over the system through subtle signal adjustment.”

“Subtle signal,” she repeats. “Not direct intervention"

“Correct,” Vex says. “Input remains distributed. Perception of autonomy is preserved. Minor adjustments to high-impact nodes would propagate through the network Outcome shifts without overt control.”

" Efficient. " Malcor gives a tiny nod approvingly. "Guided inspiration,” she murmurs interested. " Then,input can be influenced without restricting output.”

Vex responds immediately. “Correct. Constraint becomes unnecessary if initial conditions are properly calibrated.” He reaches for the book without looking away from the idea, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Pages turn in quick succession beneath his fingers. He isn’t admiring the designs—he’s scanning them. Patterns. Repetition. Recurrence across eras. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. " No frame. It lacks structural continuity. “Consistent reemergence of similar forms,” he notes quietly. “No frame… yet it persists.”

A pause.

Malcor nods, turning this over carefully. “So what does it do?”

Silence.

That question lingers longer than the others. Vex slows, the page half-turned beneath his hand. “It does not perform a singular function,” he says at last.

Malcor’s gaze sharpens. “Then it has multiple.”

“Variable,” he corrects. “Context-dependent.” A beat. Malcor considers. “List them.”

Vex pauses. “It signals identity.”

Malcor nods slightly. “…Yes.”

“It influences perception.”

“Agreed.”

“It reflects and alters collective preference.”

A longer pause. Malcor’s pencil lowers. “…So it does not stabilize.”

“No.” Vex says. “It does not standardize.”

“No.” Another beat. “It changes.”

Vex finally looks at the sketch again. “Yes.”

Silence. Malcor processes that. "Then its function is not control

“Then,” Malcor says slowly, “if the system is collective input… iterative exchange… generation through interpersonal variance…”

She trails off, as if the idea is finally beginning to settle into place.

Vex watches her, unusually still.

“A dynamic, self‑sustaining network,” he murmurs. “Outputs shaped by shared contribution. Influence distributed. No central authority. But if interpersonal variance is the primary generator, then stabilizing the variance would dramatically improve predictability.

Malcor looks up, intrigued again. “Stabilize variance?”

“Minimize noise in the exchange,” Vex explains. “Streamline input sources. Reduce fluctuation.”

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

Silence. Her grip on the pencil loosens—just slightly. “Unbound conceptualization,” she murmurs.

A small pause.

“That exists because it is desired. “Then constraints are temporarily removed,” she says slowly. Exploration phase. Variables may be introduced without immediate evaluation,” she continues, more certain now. Non-functional elements can be tested for potential integration. Pre-optimization."

Another pause stretches—long enough that it almost feels resolved.

Here are the sketches btw… :”) the person like Ava and by assumption I thought they be pretty chill and wouldn’t do something bad but wagh it’s okay ;;;

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

“No external modeling.” Vex repeats it quietly, testing the phrase as if it’s a parameter. “No frame, then.”

Malcor glances up. “Correct,” she says. “No external support structures.”

“Fashion.” He repeats the word, slower this time—testing it, weighing it, checking for internal consistency.

@siempreminta Vox didn’t answer immediately.He watched her instead—the way her eyes lit up not just with approval, but with ideas, already moving three steps ahead, already building something bigger out of what he’d made. Then he nodded, slow and deliberate.

“I agree. we won’t aim for ‘close,’” he said smoothly. We’ll redefine the standard. " He’d expected approval. Maybe a sharp nod. A quick, “not bad.” At most, a measured kind of praise filtered through her usual standards.

Velvette loved fashion—lived it, breathed it, built herself around it. She was a designer down to her bones, which meant her expectations weren’t just high— They were brutal. So he’d accounted for that.

Refined every line. Reworked every proportion. Adjusted, recalibrated, perfected until there was nothing left to improve without starting over entirely. “I will design mine, hand you the blueprints,” Vox said, voice smooth and even, slipping back into that controlled cadence he wore like armor. “I commissioned a designer who works for Asmodeus for that outfit—but the concept was mine. I left the execution to someone else.” He stepped closer, gesturing lightly to the spread of schematics across her table. “I have a company to run, Velvette. I don’t have time to sit in front of a sewing machine.”

A beat. Then, quieter—deliberate: “There’s nobody in Hell I trust more than you to bring designs to life.” It wasn’t embellished. Not dressed up. Just… placed there. Carefully.

“In return,” he continued, tone sharpening with purpose, slipping into something more familiar—more powerful, “I will expand your reach. Not just increase it—optimize it.” His screen flickered, data cascading faintly beneath the surface. “Algorithmic trend prediction. I can track what Hell is responding to in real time. Mass projection—your outfits won’t just be worn, they’ll be seen everywhere at once. Screens, broadcasts, loops, repetition until they’re unavoidable.”

He didn’t deflect it. He didn’t reroute it into something safer, something transactional, or something he could package neatly and file away under strategy or gain. It stayed exactly where it was: unoptimized.

Because confidence—hers, in him—wasn’t something he could quantify as easily as numbers, trends, or control. And neither was his, in her.

He paused, letting the concept settle before diving back in. "Embedded signal threads. Low-frequency broadcast pulses—harmless, but perceptible on a subconscious level. The outfit doesn’t just attract attention… it sustains it. Think of it as audience retention, but wearable.”

A beat. Then, almost as an afterthought—

Asmodeus has given Velvette a task, it's not exactly an order it's more of a kick start for her doing business with Malcor and it's gently help her tap into her humanness, it's there just incredibly repressed. She's treating humanness like it's a code.

It is the first step that has to be taken before official business can be taken. It states with the little things. Something as simple as spending time together. Malcor studies a blue print for one of her outfits like it's interesting data not something wereable.

" What is your ---philosophy for your outfits?"

"

It took the doll sinner some time to come up with an answer, never truly considering anout the philosophy of her outfits.

Did she really need one?

A beat

"The financial returns were optimal, yes. But the structural geometry is chaotic," Malcor says, bringing up a glowing holographic wireframe of one of Velvette’s iconic asymmetrical dresses in the air between them. "Look at the left shoulder axis. You utilized a heavy, structured velvet drapery that shifts the center of gravity by 4.2 centimeters to the port side. To compensate for the drag, the wearer’s musculoskeletal frame must expend an extra 8% of kinetic energy just to maintain a linear stride."

Footnote: Fascinating anomaly. Wearers in this sector do not select external plating based on defensive integrity or aerodynamic optimization. Wearers thrive on a certain feeling. The 'feeling' apparently mitigates the physical deficit of a 14.8% survival hazard. Investigation into how 'vibes' override kinetic friction is ongoing. Subject appears highly protective of this non-linear variable.

Her voice is even, measured, and completely devoid of emotional inflection. It carries the weight of a heavy, low-frequency baritone, but the delivery is entirely clinical. She isn't trying to argue or mock; she is studying the sketch the exact way a mad scientist analyzes an inexplicable biological specimen under a high-powered lens. diagnosing fashion engineering style.

She isn't looking at the outfit itself. The high-collared, neon-trimmed silhouette of the jacket means nothing to her. She is peering right through the ink, trying to dissect the invisible mechanics behind it. The frame. The intangible scaffolding that supports human volatile energy.

On the flat surface of her tablet, which lies next to the sketch, a new footnote initializes in real-time text:

[FOOTNOTE: 04.23] / COGNITIVE ANALYSIS

Query: Subject identifies 'vibe' as a governing authority, yet 'vibe' appears to lack systemic structure.

Hypothesis: Is 'vibe' a calculated intuition refined by environmental variables, or is it merely an unmonitored baseline impulse?

Vex says dryly, cutting through the moment unknowingly ruining the moment

Malcor microscopically nods. “Without structural reference, failure probability increases." She takes the tablet back.

"The variables should be definite as well, that should be lisited for the frame of the object" Vex saye.

Malcor continues, voice even. “Do not take that tablet from me again, Velvette. It contains his diagnostics—along with everything else relevant to his current state. If something changes, I will need immediate access.”

A brief pause.

When she finally lowered the graphite to the page, a single, clean line appeared. Precise. Intentional.

Then came another.

There were no curves—never curves at first. Only straight, measured strokes. A rigid frame began to take shape long before anything resembling a dress did; she mapped out vertical support, lateral balance, and proportional spacing before fabric was even implied.

Then, she paused.

“…This is inefficient,” Malcor murmured mostly to herself.

Her grip tightened. She tried again, this time forcing a curve, but the line wavered just enough to irritate her. Stopping midway through the stroke, she studied the imperfection like a critical fault in a system.

Behind her, the faintest exhale cut through the quiet. Malcor didn’t look up.

“Without structural reference,” she said softly, “the outcome is inconsistent.”

Still, she adjusted. On her next attempt, the line bled softer and less rigid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to what she intended. She stared at the mark for a beat longer than necessary.

“…acceptable,” she decides.

She's quiet for awhile

Malcor goes still again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her pencil moves with sudden purpose—faster now, more certain. She doesn’t erase the earlier frame; she refines it, expanding the sketch as lines begin to intersect with sharp intent.

A silhouette emerges, but there is nothing soft about it.

The dress takes shape as a series of deliberate layers: structured panels, articulated seams, and weight distributed with geometric precision. The bodice is reinforced rather than decorative. Instead of flowing, the skirt falls in controlled segments, each section meticulously aligned to maintain balance in motion. Beneath the outer form, hidden lines appear—internal supports, anchoring points, and subtle indications of tension and release. She shades lightly, not to suggest the texture of fabric, but to mark density, load, and function.

Malcor leans back a fraction, studying the page.

“…There,” she says at last. A pause, then another beat. “It will maintain form under movement, resist collapse at stress points, and adapt to minor shifts in posture without compromising the silhouette. It is… efficient.”

Only then does it become obvious. It is not a dress in the way Velvette meant.

It is a dress that has been engineered. This was not clothing. It was a system wearing the shape of a dress.

Malcor needed to step up her game...immensely.

"It's nice...but there's no soul to it."

A brief silence hangs between them.

“Correct.” Vex studies it “The structural integrity is consistent. Load distribution appears balanced. Minimal risk of deformation under stress.” He tilts his head slightly, studying it like a report. “Efficient.”

This time, she moves faster. Lines form—not copied, but extracted. Elements are pulled from different designs and reorganized: a waistline from one era, layering from another, reinforcement where there had been none. Flow redirected into control.

The result builds quickly. Clean. Intentional. Contained. She finishes, then sets the pencil down with a soft, precise motion.

“Done." Vex studies the sketch for a few moments, eyes tracking every line with quiet precision. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “This is a very efficient, synchronized system. It warrants creation.”

“I agree.” Malcor turns the drawing back toward herself, already analyzing it. A brief pause. “I should construct a prototype,” she continues evenly. “However, it requires further definition.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly. “What does this system do? What is its function?”

Vex doesn’t look away from the sketch. “Primary function: stabilize and enhance the wearer’s form. It minimizes variance, maintains structural integrity, and ensures consistent presentation under all conditions.”

Malcor gives a small, approving nod. “Consistent presentation reduces unpredictability,” she adds. “That would improve overall performance.”

“Agreed.” A brief pause as Vex studies the lower half of the design. “Mobility constraints may occur.”

Malcor tilts the page slightly. “Within acceptable range?”

“Depends on intended use.” Another beat. Malcor considers this. “Then we define parameters.”

“Formal setting?” Vex suggests. “Controlled environment,” Malcor corrects. “Limited movement required.” “Minimal deviation expected.”

They both fall silent for a moment, staring at the sketch like it’s a live model. Malcor taps the paper once. “It could also regulate posture.”

“Correction,” Vex says. “It would enforce posture.” Malcor pauses. “Better.”

Another moment passes. “Additional function,” Vex continues. “Visual authority.”

Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Explain.”

“The symmetry and rigidity would signal control. It alters perception.”

Malcor considers this. “So it not only stabilizes the wearer,” she says slowly, “it stabilizes how they are perceived.”

“Correct.” A quiet beat. Malcor nods once. “Then it has dual function.”

“Structural and psychological.” They both look back at the sketch. “A system that presents as a dress,” Malcor says thoughtfully, “while enforcing improved posture.”

Malcor taps the sketch once. “Elegant. Yes… beautiful. A system that looks like a dress.”

Vex’s gaze does not lift. “A disguise is an inefficient term,” he says. “It implies deception.” A pause. “This is not deceptive.”

Malcor tilts her head slightly. “No?”

“It is accurate,” Vex replies. “It is a system. It simply presents in an acceptable format.”

Malcor considers that. “Aesthetic compliance,” she says.

“Correct.” Her fingers rest lightly on the page, tracing one of the reinforced seams. “It will need to adapt,” she murmurs. “Different bodies. Different tolerances.”

“Modular adjustments,” Vex says immediately. “Tension points can be redistributed. Pressure calibrated. Dynamically?”

“If necessary.” A brief silence. Malcor’s eyes narrow slightly, thinking further ahead. “Then it could learn.”

Vex finally glances at her. A beat. “Define.”

“Not actively,” Malcor clarifies. “But through iteration. Each version more precise than the last. Less resistance. Greater compliance.”

Vex looks back to the sketch. “Optimization through repetition,” he says. “Yes.” Another pause settles between them—comfortable, focused.

Malcor straightens slightly. “There is one remaining question.” Vex does not respond, but the attention shifts. Malcor’s voice stays even. “Who is the system for?”

A beat. Vex’s answer comes without hesitation. “Anyone requiring correction.”

Silence. Malcor nods once, satisfied. “Then it will be widely applicable " Vex is quiet for a moment, still studying the sketch then almost absently. " That would indicate a systematic issue. " A beat. Malcor glances at him. " Explain. " " If a correction system has board applicably then deviation is not isolated. " a pause. " It is standard. Silence. Malcor considers this. " So the system is not specialized?" " Correct. " Vex says. " It is necessary. Then mass production is justified and with your marketing and broadcast abilities" " Efficient. " Vex says nodding approvingly " A high visibly would adoption. Standardization would follow. " Malcor adjusts the sketch slightly it. " Controlled rollout, then expansion.

Vex crosses the room without a word, retrieves the tablet, and returns just as efficiently. His grip on it is firm—purposeful. Of course, it would not remain secured for long. He stops beside Malcor and extends it toward her. No hesitation.

said mask was a comedy and tragedy mask that had been broken down the middle, and then melted together. only alastor and Rosie had been told the real reason behind the mask, though angeldust figured it out on his own. he was literally and figuratively masking. it was the only way he had been able to get through the stressful meetings, and today it was going to be more needed than ever.

With a sigh, he enters the building, unsure of what would come next, but he had a pretty good idea as his legs carried him to quite possibly his death.

@traveling-monster

he sighs, resisting the urge ti lean against alastor as they walked. being honest, he just wanted to leave the meeting, curl up on a couch and be held by someone, preferably his girlfriend but he wasn't picky at this point. he didn't want to be here, but alas, he had to. at least the paperwork was a nice break afterwards.

"mind if I crash at your place after this? I'm gonna need some form of company and it's either you or angel, figured we could chat over some drinks? I'll bring the strong shit for myself, maybe I'll actually get drunk for once."

he places a paw on the door, sighing.

"moment of truth, eh?"

he seems to be frozen slightly, before backing up.

he sighs

said mask was a comedy and tragedy mask that had been broken down the middle, and then melted together. only alastor and Rosie had been told the real reason behind the mask, though angeldust figured it out on his own. he was literally and figuratively masking. it was the only way he had been able to get through the stressful meetings, and today it was going to be more needed than ever.

With a sigh, he enters the building, unsure of what would come next, but he had a pretty good idea as his legs carried him to quite possibly his death.

@traveling-monster

he sighs, resisting the urge ti lean against alastor as they walked. being honest, he just wanted to leave the meeting, curl up on a couch and be held by someone, preferably his girlfriend but he wasn't picky at this point. he didn't want to be here, but alas, he had to. at least the paperwork was a nice break afterwards.

"mind if I crash at your place after this? I'm gonna need some form of company and it's either you or angel, figured we could chat over some drinks? I'll bring the strong shit for myself, maybe I'll actually get drunk for once."

he places a paw on the door, sighing.

"moment of truth, eh?"

he seems to be frozen slightly, before backing up.

he sighs