#broken puppet

-Broken Puppet, Lies of P

Can you imagine P hearing that for the first time? Like, the FIRST time he's heard someone outright say they genuinely appreciate him and that they'll always be important to him, regardless of anyone else who may come? Something that his creator claimed but that hadn't come to fruition- actually being true for at least one other being?

Awww he does need more love! Happy to oblige!

BROKEN PUPPET ROMANTIC HEADCANONS

-The emblem of,"they thought you were trash and threw you away-I brought you in like a treasure."

-As the other puppets he doesn't understand the concept of love, relationship and what not but he is willing to learn;hell, he would pester you to teach him.

-He doesn't mind being in this state;he can't do much, but resting in your room instead of debris and pollution lifts his spirit.It's enough for him.You have cleaned and polished him up. Eugenie even got him a new pair of eyes to see you better.

-Likes to listen to you.He's ecstatic if you talk to him about your day.Also enjoy you reading him bed time stories even if he doesn't need to sleep.

a closed roleplay starter. — ➴ "amnesia."

a broken puppet struggling to piece itself together. amnesia!kunikuzushi.

please read my account info & rp rules before interacting.

Location: Dragonspine or Snezhnaya. Your choice.

The wind howled with a blistering cold. Clouds covered the sky in thick greys as the air was lined with stripes of snow. The sun couldn't be seen; nor could the mangled body of this broken puppet with its hands digging to emerge from the snow.

He didn't know why he was here. Didn't know why he was covered in layers of heavy white. All he knew was that his mechanical body was screaming with signals disguised as pain. His electric nerves tingled with numbness that felt like fuzzy static each time he moved.

A groan left his lips as he reached his arm forward, feeling his synthetic muscles ache and on the verge of ripping from the awkward twist. It was like he was digging himself out of his own grave while also attempting to unravel his own disfigurement. A body and self that he can't seem to remember, searching through his blurry mind to piece together what he may or may not look like.

There was a burn that coursed through him, different from the elements that surrounded him. A sort of... emotion that he was familiar with yet could not name. The sort of emotion that erupted an urge to destroy. Yet all he could do was clench his fist and squeeze the snow for stability.

In one swift movement, the puppet ignored the pain and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Almost instinctively, he began to awkwardly pull his arms back straight despite the friction of his internal skeleton. He hissed and wheezed with each yank before focusing on his legs, correcting the proportions of his body using a manual he knows yet can't seem to recall its origins.

He doesn't know who he is or where he came from. All he can faintly recall was the rage in his chest and the need for revenge. But revenge against who? Against what? He didn't know.

Despite his mind being birthed anew--he felt stupid. Weak. Like he shouldn't have allowed himself to be in this position. All instinctive reactions, yet he couldn't pinpoint the cause. Why was he like this? Why was he out in the middle of nowhere, halfway buried beneath snow?

The blizzard continued to roar around him as he tried to collect his muddled thoughts. He fought against the dense wind and kept himself upright, feeling urgency due to the icy temperatures. His movements were slow and stiff, but he deemed it as self-punishment; an obstacle that he must overcome in order to feel right again.

He couldn't stand even if he wanted to. Just because he snapped his limbs back into place didn't mean that his injuries were suddenly healed. His artificial flesh was cracked with a red liquid akin to blood seeping out of him, staining the snowfield beneath him. Not to mention the internal damage from... being crushed? Was he crushed by something, or was it from blunt force trauma?

He couldn't even answer his own questions; his head throbbing from the loss of memory. So, instead of walking, he chose to crawl. Dragging himself through the thick heaves of snow, he felt determined to find... to find, well, something. He didn't know what he was searching for.

The only thing he could truly understand was that if he didn't find warmth soon, he was afraid he might freeze to death. Not from hypothermia, but from the cold killing his electric wires. He would need to physically defrost if he wanted to move more fluidly--because right now, his body creaked and stiffened with each shift.

Please only interact with a minimum of 3 paragraphs.

I apologize if the quality of this starter is not the best... I have not roleplayed in years.

If multiple people respond, the interactions will be split into different timelines. I will not allow group roleplaying. I will close this starter when I want to.

Based around the handheld accessory ‘Dark Glass’.