Pink Clouds, Pink Thoughts

but, that's not what it was for. it can only assume it was made for social gain. it doesn't know for sure, but it can imagine her feeling pride at being able to create as effectively as she could destroy. except… its creator couldn't do that. that's probably why it's so messed up. living away from the direct punishments that witch levied at her handiwork has made it feel a little less bad, but only a little. it has learned that a lot of what it feels is consistent with whatever its life may have been like when it was a human. that makes it feel worse. this is a strange world full of cruelty unmoored by the possibilities of mundane life, but the impulses behind them are recognizable enough. but to know it from a bad life as a human into a bad life as a doll… it wonders how much reason there is to fear what's waiting for it. but it's still scared.

as it thinks, it goes through the motions of getting itself ready. before long, it's splayed out across the ritual circle, a lens writ in glyphs, that will allow the audience to better appraise it. well, what little audience there will be. the showings have been quieter and quieter. there is one frequent guest who it knows will be here again, but really wishes wouldn't be. she always looks so bored. some of the other regulars seem to get off on the knowledge that it has to do this for them, perform for what's left of its life and then get dispelled anyway. but she always just stares. stares and stares and stares. she really does look bored, but maybe she feels contempt? she doesn't seem to weigh over whether or not to take it in. no one does. but then she's always there, every day. more questions with no answer.

"you kill them!" bad timing. not her specialty… "why… why shouldn't I storm right in there and yank her and every other doll I can out right this minute?" lauren's face is red, plain makeup worn and ruined by sweat and tears.

meredith ran through responses. they won't come with you. you'd be turned into a frog. it'd be trespassing, and theft. she really considers that last one. but… no. giving a reason would be pointless. there's no use convincing someone like this; that's part of why meredith even acted on the impulse to bring her in. she settles on: "there's still time. you have the rest of the month. you can talk to it, maybe,"

incredulous, lauren huffs. "about what? about what kind of funeral it might expect, if it gets one at all?" she shakes off meredith's hand. lauren's gaze is expectant, begging, but frenzied.

"about this, about its perspective," as soon as the word leaves her mouth, lauren looks like she might yell.

"there is no 'perspective' that would make this acceptable! none! if I can't beg her to run as far away as she can, there's nothing to say!" meredith sighs at the condemnation. lauren's voice is wavering, just about to tip into a scream. distress is something she can exploit.

"lauren," meredith says, matter-of-fact and knowing.

"what?" the word is practically a hiss.

"have you ever spoken to this," meredith takes the brochure out of lauren's hand, checking for imogen's name despite already knowing it, "imogen? in the past?" detachment. she's above this.

silence from lauren, or at least no words. her face speaks to shame her heart can't rationalize away, and the shame of being found out. meredith wills the ceiling lights darker, except that above the her and lauren, which she wills brighter. a spotlight. the effect is subtle, but she needs subtlety.

"am I right to assume the answer is no?" spoken as a fact, rather than a question.

lauren looks like she's grasping for anything, anything at all. "at least… I'm-I'm not… I wouldn't ever hurt her," the righteous fury from before has abandoned her.

"of course not. you'd just stalk her," petrified, lauren shrinks under meredith's gaze. of course meredith couldn't be bothered less about this. or… anything, really. if that's what she needs to feel right now. but lauren is, and that's enough. "do you wonder what she might think, wonder who this stranger is?" meredith asks, smirking.

"I just… I just…" there's fresh tears in lauren's eyes. good… this is, good. it gives meredith control. shows she has it. shows she's wringing out of the office lady.

"has she even seen you before?" lauren answers, but meredith doesn't stop, "ever held a single conversation?" lauren backs away, just by a step, frantic as though she might try to huddle into the corner. a little more stress for a little more will; meredith pushes away the heat around lauren's body. shivers across her skin, down her spine… sweat run cold. "it's okay, really," meredith coos, "she's just a thing, after all. so what if you followed her back home," lauren practically shrieks. meredith shushes her, "oh, my dear, it's all perfectly fine. it's fine how your eyes trace her body, how you imagine what you'd do with her when you-"

lauren shoves meredith into the wall. stinging, furious tears fall onto meredith's chest. "you don't know me," she growls, "and you don't have a right to insinuate anything like this about me," just a little further... meredith lingers, faux-stunned. "who do you think you f-fucking are?"

it takes all the restraint meredith can muster not to sigh in relief. this is workable, this is fine. she places both hands on lauren's shoulders. her grasp is faint, soft. "I am a witch. we live along the world's gaps. and I can keep a secret; we can come up with something together,"

lauren loosens her grip. before long, she's let go of meredith's clothes, arms slumped at her sides. "why... would I do that?" she rasps.

"for your own sake, dear. and for hers. stay with me today. see her as she is outside your world. then hear from her what she thinks. is that alright?"

"nn… I never… I never thought of her like that. never! I wouldn't, I'm-I'm…" lauren's protesting is stop by the finger meredith rests on her lips.

"I don't need justification. let us go about this as we will, and you won't be implicated. it won't be any of your business, nor you ours,"

lauren groans. she walks back a little. pulling back the brochure gracelessly, she looks down again at the picture of imogen. the details surrounding it, explaining it… they are unflattering. its body is covered in filled-in cracks. it's not suitable for "intense use". lauren looks back up. "if that's what it takes… just please let me try to keep it from being hurt," the paper shakes softly in her trembling hands. "it looks like it's already gone through enough,"