#floofycharacters

”Really?” The entity speaks gently, in affable tones, all mouths moving in unison. “It isn’t Nobody, No How, No Where or Null and Void?”

”No.”

“Are you sure it isn’t ‘No’?”

“What?”

They lean back, fingers steepling with an indulgent chuckle, “Well, so far you’ve mostly answered ‘No’ to my questions. Are you sure that isn’t going to stick?”

”I have a name.” N says, irritated. “It’s,” then grows silent. “It’s something else, no one can be named just No.”

”Why not?” The innocent curiosity in the beings voice makes N itch.

”It’s just not okay?”

The mouths split open and fold back to become peering eyes.

“Okay N,”

N groans and the entity splays their fingers appealingly, each tip now tipped with a round shiny eye. That uncomfortably, are all peering in N’s direction.

”I do not have any other name to call you. You cannot remember your name. I cannot just call you something like ___” Static ringing fills the air, causing N to shake their head and scruntch their nose.

”Look. Okay, just look. I know you think these sessions will help or something, but I’m sick of it! I just. Want. To. Go. Home.”

The entity becomes silent, N stares up at the ceiling, watching it move like waves in a choppy sea. Wishing they could take back the outburst.

“Do you know where you are N?”

”The Here.”

”Do you know who I am?”

”Dr. Rhapsody.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

N sighs, their chest and back rising up and falling with the action. “No. I can’t remember.”

N already can guess the Dr. isn’t going to reach for a pen. They keep staring at the ceiling.

“Still no memory of it?”

N closes their eyes and shakes their head slowly, side to side, the motion strangely soothing.

”I can’t remember anything, no.”

”Do you remember falling up or down?”

”No.”

”Do you remember anyone calling your name?”

”No.”

”Have you seen any doors manifest around you?”

N sighs again. “No… I can’t remember anything, like I said.” N perks up as the sound of a pencil begins scratching on paper.

”I think that will be all for today N. No progress with your memories, but I am sure you already know that.”

”Do we have to keep doing this?” N shifts in their seat, “It feels like beating our heads in against the wall.

Dr. Rhapsody stands, and begins to peel off their suit. Not only their suit, but their skin as well. It slithers onto the floor revealing a different shape underneath. Like cracking open a jawbreaker, a layered rainbow of colors.

“Dr?”

”Rhapsody. Please.” The entity says. “Dr is for when I am at work, I would very much like to relax now.”

”Right.” N says, staring at the shed skin on the floor. The Dr. part of Rhapsody’s personality lifeless and unmoving until they pull it on again. “It’s still weird you don’t take that with you.”

Rhapsody looks down toeing at the Dr. “Is it? Do humans bring their burdens home with them? It sounds so uncomfortable.“

N barks a laugh at that. “You have… no idea.” Rhapsody warms, the blues and greens of their skin dissolving just a little, peeling back more to reveal yellows and reds.

“You may tell me all about it at dinner.”

”May I?” N raises an eyebrow before their feet land on the floor. The rug kicks up dust as the particles revert back to inertness. “I thought you said you don’t like to work on your off hours.”

”Oh it’s certainly not work, curiosity drives me to the brink of sanity N. It shall do so, until I become quite sane indeed.

”We’re all Mad Here,” N quotes softly. Utterly and truly I am feeling quite mad.

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

The shop was run by a mimic. A particularly intelligent one, and he was a crafty devil too. He was the best shop in the town if you knew how to work with him. You take a bottle out of your satchel and place it on the counter. “I bought this for you last night. Looks like this is one of the first bottles of that new wine the tavern is selling. Tell me what you think." 

“Ooh, this looks promising. . .” you can see a skeletal hand slowly creep up to the tabletop, grabbing the neck of the wine bottle before disappearing. "I will try it later and tell you how it goes. . ."

There were a few select customers who picked up on your trick of bartering with food and fine wine. But he had commented that he favored you over the others and that had made you swell with pride. The bottom line of Imic’s market stall was, as long as the mimic was fed, and business was good he would stay. That was one of the reasons you wanted to hang around him as much as you could. He had been infinitely interesting to talk to. With how he had his shop set up, it always looked that it was empty or ownerless, he was a disembodied voice that would talk to you about prices, or occasionally a knarled hand would take coins from patrons or open drawers to rummage about to get something. 

There were a lot of people that had been off put by the secretive creature, but you had been utterly fascinated. It took you a really long time to figure out what he was. But in the good spirits of wanting to get to know the shopkeeper better, you had brought a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine to welcome his shop into your town. 

"Did my leather boots finally come in from the merchants?"

"They should be around here somewhere," The grumbly voice purred, you watched as his hands dug around the small space, sorting through parcels until he pulled out a rather large wooden box, easily hefting it up onto the table top.

"Thank goodness! These ones were finally about to wear out, thank you so much."

He pushes the box towards you wordless and you huff embarrassed by his kind gesture. "No, no! The wine was a gift, how much do I owe you?" 

Imics hands pause, before they sink out of view, reappearing with an ancient looking abacus and setting it on the counter.

"Are you sure?. . . Let's see here."

A hand starts sliding around the rounded wooden beads. The ticking of his sharp clawed fingers against the wooden clacking beads making your skin prickle. You give a little shudder when he stops moving the bead around. and turns the frame for you to see. 

You look at it before you give a slight cough. You hear a rattling sound under the table and you give a little jump.

"Sorry." Imic huffs, "Forgot you can't read that. The price is 150 gold."

You raise an eyebrow, "Still sounds a little cheap to me. . . After all you did get it from rather far away. . ." You peer at the abacus but shake your head in dismay. "Oh alright. . . just because I can't do math. . . I believe you." You rummage around in your pockets and pull out your small leather purse, slowly counting the pieces on the table before dropping them into the boney waiting hand. 

"Thank you for your business," The voice rasps. You watch him grab the abacus and both hands slink out of view, you hear a rattle and click before the stall goes deathly silent once more. You frown, feeling a little put out, you had been hoping Imic was going to be more talkative today. You heft the box into your arms. "Well, I'll be seeing you later, thanks again for ordering these for me!" 

"Wait. . ." 

You pause before slowly turning around and stepping back towards the shop. "Yes?"

You hear the squeak and pop of a cork, the sound of wine being poured into a glass. Your eyebrows raising with curiosity as his hand reappears with a glass, and setting it on the table. The hand pushes it towards you before disappearing. You smile and pick up the cup.

"That's very generous of you, thank you." you take a sip, listening to the sounds underneath the counter as the mimic rummages around.

"It's not bad," it hisses softly, you nod in agreement before you realize your error, "No, not bad at all, very light and fruity, I quite like it."

". . . . . . . . . . Perhaps you wouldn't mind doing me a little favor. . ." 

"Sure! I'm happy to help." 

The shop owner falls silent again, and you tilt your head, trying to hear if he was moving around. "I don't wish to impose," it murmured at last, "But I was hoping that you could order something at the tavern for me." A hand appears dropping a few coins onto the counter. "I've been spoiled," Imic moans in defeat, "Ever since you brought hot food to me. . ." You blink in surprise before you laugh cheerfully. "Ah! I get it now! You want me to bring you lunch!" You grin, "Not a problem, I can go get it for you, don't worry about the money. I'll pay for it."

"You're so kind," Imic murmurs quietly, "I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness. . ." You laugh and politely ignore the gold left on the table. When you come back with your wooden bowl filled with piping hot chicken and roasted potatoes you find that the gold is still on the table, waiting for you.

"I want to pay you," Imic prompts stubbornly, as you set the bowl down, "Nonsense. I have legs, you don't. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't help you?"

There is a long pause and a deep silence that follows before the raspy voice echoes your words. "Friend?" 

"Well yes, I would like to think of us as friends," You give a little smile, "I like you Imic, I hope you stay in town for a very long time." There is another deep silence before a hand becomes you forward with a clawed finger. "Come here." You tilt your head in confusion, starting to lean over the countertop. 

"No. . . not that way," The voice says huskily. His hand motioning. "Come around the table."

You lean up, absolutely intrigued, walking around the booth, to enter inside the cramped space full of trinkets. There on the other side of where you had been standing sat a large worn chest. It looked like it could fit a whole person inside and it sat directly underneath the wooden countertop. The front of it was facing out to you, and instead of a normal framed lock sat a large green eye with a slitted pupil. The pupil widening and rounding out as it watches you intently.

You’ve been employed under the wing of vampires for a few years now. Even then, you don’t really feel safe in this house. Feeling like prey at any moment you are deemed obsolete, or show weakness. The only time you feel safe is locked inside your room, or with her.

Cordelia.

You have vibrant, all too real dreams in the times you sleep, dancing with her in the ballroom, both of you wearing elegant ball gowns. Your name on her lips as she dips you backwards and presses her mouth to your throat. You awake in a cold sweat and trembling. It is a dance you have almost every night. A strange fear and exhilaration that makes you feel nauseous. It wasn’t that you were repulsed by her, not at all, she was an alluring beauty. With snowy white hair cut short and curled, luminous eyes, voluptuous lips. But Cordelia was cold, as cold as ice that frosts the window panes. You never could tell what she had going on in her mind. Secretive and aloof, yet still she pulled on your heart strings like they are laces of a corset, tighter and tighter until you could barely breathe easy around her. There were many times where you felt she cared for you deeply. The little things that she would do or say, praising you for a job well done. Taking interest in your opinions and pursuits. It would make your heart throb in your chest painfully. But her expression would never change, she always held such an icy countenance. She could seem so cold, you could feel the air freezing in your lungs. What became of that mixed emotion was a strange deep yearning. the same yearning that would creep into your head at night. You knew it was dangerous, but still you yearned. You yearned to warm her heart, with your own.

The years in which you had worked for her, you learned a lot about her and the rest of her ménage that thrived in the household. You could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into her mystery. But you knew how much of a mistake it would be to get even more tangled up with the residents of the house. Not that you were not already in so deep, you were not sure if you would ever see the sun again.

 You stop in front of a dark wooden door that leads to the study, gently rapping your knuckles upon it's frame. "Miss Cordelia? The curtains have been drawn as per your request." You are politely invited inside and you close the door behind you. You find that she isn’t alone in the study and you freeze. Finding yourself being studied shrewdly by a few of the other occupants of the house. You swallow but smooth out your expression, attempting to look as blank and dull as you always did. Proper, and respectable. 

Cordelia sweeps over to you, blocking you from their stares. She turns her head back to look at them, her eyes narrowing, then she turns to you. “Thank you darling, I appreciate your hard work so very much.” You give a little quirk of a smile before her clawed hand tips up your chin. You freeze, your cheeks turning rosey. She leans down, her plump and chilly lips pressing into your own. Kissing you outright in front of her others. Your face turning, redder and redder, as you catch a glimpse of the scowling faces around you. Her eyelashes flutter as she cups your face. "My dear, would you be so kind as to put on the kettle for tea?" She doesn't bother looking at them, but she keeps her pale blue eyes trained on you. Staring deeply into yours. “I shall be up in my room, I shan’t linger much longer here.

"Y-yes ma'am" You stammer, she lets go of you and your stand giving a respectful bow to the dark beings around you before making a hasty exit. You can hear soft voices beyond the door, quiet but reproachful voices. You glance behind you before your eyes lower, you feel lightheaded, you clutch your heart and close your eyes. Miraculously you are able to find your way to the kitchen in your stupor. You start a fire and set up a tray for tea, trying to forget the feeling of her lips upon your own. You busy yourself the best you can, until the water is hot. Carefully pouring the hot water into a teapot, then hefting the awkward tray into your arms.

You walk slowly to her private room, and when you knock upon the door it opens on its own. You find her lounging on her chaise. “Darling,” Her red lips purse, looking at you with a cool appraising gaze. “Did I upset you?” You look down, not wanting to meet her eyes shaking your head, “No ma’am. . .” She reaches a clawed hand out to you, shifting her thighs on the plush cushions. “Come here.” You keep your head down but do as you’re told taking her hand. Her cool countenance watches you intently as her supple lips form a pout. “Then why do you look down?” you suck in a shaky breath, “I am just. . . worried about you miss, if I may be so bold. You shouldn’t have kissed me in front of your family, they are my superiors. . . as are you.”

"I couldn't care less what they think of me and my actions." She raises her chin defiantly, "They know very well my opinions. What I am more curious about is how you feel about them." She rests a sharp finger against her cheek as she watches you.

"Me miss?" 

"Yes," she murmurs, "Perhaps I am not doing this very well, I thought I was being forward with how I felt. . . Shall I try again?" 

"I'm not following," you echo blankly, she gives another one of her pristine pouts, grabbing your hand and pulling you down with a steely grip. You feel yourself topple into her, clumsily flopping on top of her shapely form. "Miss--" You squeak before she cups your face and kisses you hard. 

You feel your head swoon. Your heart feeling like it was going to jump out of your chest. You scramble, your hands on the back of the chaise pushing yourself up. You stare at her with round eyes, your mind in disarray. “P-please, stop teasing my heart. . .” You can feel tears start to run down your face as you weep, “I can bear it no longer. . .” Her own eyes widen as she watches you cry, the emotion almost seeming foreign to her. She reaches up brushing your tears away, and you shake with a sob. “I don’t understand you, I want to, I’ve tried. S-So hard--” Cordelia’s brows furrow, she grabs your wrists again, you struggle feebly before you find yourself on her lap. You shake and tremble before her clawed fingers run through your hair. 

“Oh darling. . .” She whispers softly, “I am so sorry,” she bows her head against yours, and through your tears you can see a very faint flash of emotion grace her features. She tilts your chin up and you blink hard, “I thought I had been obvious, with my feelings for you. That I love you, and have loved you for sometime.” A strange expression flickers over her face, “It’s hard. . . to share the same emotion you do, humans are so full of emotion, and we, so distant. But please, never think that I had been tormenting your heart. I would never wish to do that to you. Please dispel those thoughts from your mind.” You stare at her giving a sniffle as you see hurt reflecting in her own eyes. Your expression cracks and you throw your arms around her, the stress and the fear and the yearning all coming out at once in a fit of sobbing and tears. You hold onto her so tightly, and her expression falters, gently holding you in her arms until you no longer can weep. Your throat sore and your breathing is labored, she fixes you a cup of tea as you sit on her lounge chair sniffling from the remnants of your outburst.

“Th-they know then,” You whisper as she settles back down beside you, “Of course, I have told them many times, that I am fond of you and wish you to be my sweetheart. They wished to argue with me about it again tonight. Saying that it is ill-advised and foolish to love one that will not be able to understand time as you, and how life is so fleeting.” She rolls her eyes, “I do not care. It is my choice, and I shall choose whom I love.” You can feel your cheeks flush, realizing the scene in the study had been an act of defiance. By the time you had come to the door, they must have been arguing for some time. And to bring her point across that she wouldn’t budge, she had kissed you brashly right in front of them. “I w-wish you would have told me. . .”  “I thought you had known, I made a mistake and assumed that my hints were being understood, it was not right of me to treat you in that way.” She pauses before looking at you, “So I hope you shall converse with me now. . .” Her hand takes yours gently as she kisses your fingers. “I know not of how you feel about me. . . only that I have made you cry tonight. I never want that to happen again. I don’t think I could bear to see your pretty eyes full of tears.”

Your heart feels like it is pounding up your throat, as your reach for her cheek. Your hand shakes as you pet her lips, before you cup her chin and kiss her sweetly. She holds your waist and tugs you to her, and your arms gently slide around her sloping neck. The two of you kissing over and over until you have to turn away, to catch your breath. You shiver, as you feel her lips press against your neck. “Cordelia?” Your voice wavers unsure, her clawed fingers gently trace your throat as she leans up, “Worry not my love. . . I shan’t mark you until you wish me to. That will be a time when you are ready and unafraid.” A small smile tugs at her lips, “Though I do wonder what my family will say then. . . you best wear a scarf around your neck thereafter, or it may lead to scandal.” You feel your eyes go round at such a thought, and she gives the softest little laugh.

He doesn’t have much time to sleep, so he better grab what he can. He heads out of his office and walks along the empty corridor. With how the building is set up, his personal room and his office are closely linked so he never has to go far from one to the other, though he has been known to fall asleep in his chair and forego the short walk to his room. His lip curls and he rolls his eyes thinking about sleepy eyed Wyrn and his words of wisdom about rest and relaxation. Even though his younger sibling meant well, it just annoyed him. “Pfeh. An just what does he know about that? He’s always sleepin’ damned brother hasn’t woiked a hard day in his life.” He opens the door to his room, his tall shadow filling up the doorway. He hates to admit it, and especially since it is advice coming from his lazy brother. . . but maybe he’s right. “Maybe. . . I could be usin’ a break.” He mumbles out loud, closing the door behind him. He pouts as he unbuttons his jacket and lets it fall carelessly to the floor. Too tired to be worried about a few wrinkles. He slips off his shoes and settles on top of the bed. His head laying back on the pillows, looking up tiredly at the ceiling before they finally close.

He is awakened rather rudely by a noise outside and he starts, sitting up out of bed. There was a panicked voice outside his room and frantic knocking. “Wh- . . . what the hell?” he sleepy intones, he blinks heavily a couple of times and squints trying to catch a fragment of what was being said.

“B-Barbeus sir!! There’s a commotion downstairs! S-Sir! P-please! Wake up!!” With some effort, his groggily stumbles out of bed, his eyes are bleary, but he manages to find his shoes and get them on. “I’m comin’ damn it, gimme a minute here!” He growls, stepping over his jacket and then he jerks open the door, fuming. “What the hell is so important that ya gotta be knocking at my door, uh???”

Th-th-the human girl!” They stammer in a panic. “Sh-she’s in trouble!” Barbie’s eyes snap open, “What?!” They hurry along with Barbeus as he hurries down the corridor. “What th’ hell did they do??” “N-nothing that I know of!”

He reaches the stairs and he can catch a lingering smell of smoke, something burning downstairs. Oh no, he honestly hopes the human didn’t get themselves charred doing something stupid. Looking out over the stairs, he can clearly see flames coming from the break room. Barbeus groans, “You. . . gotta be kiddin’ me. This is too early in th’ mornin.” He marches downstairs, his tail swishing with agitation. The few that were in the lounge peering at him from their hiding spots. He barges into the breakroom to find it in tatters, there is a large demon looking aggressively looking around, trying to find. . . something. Barbeus’ eyes just manage to spot a small figure hiding in a broken cupboard and peeking out into the room.

He stamps his foot angrily, the fire in the room guttering and going out. “That. Does. IT. We ain’t doin’ this no more. What did I tell you? All of yous??” There is a burst of green fire that fills the whole room, a few green flames licking out into the lounge before it disappears.

He whips around to glare down at the human that is hiding, their eyes wide and glassy. They looked shaken, but unscathed. “You okay?” His voice comes out snappier than he had intended. They nodd, and they look like they’re going to cry. “. . . Good.” Barbie’s jaw clentches and he gives an annoyed growl. He’s too mad to talk to them properly right now, and it looks like the damn thing has been traumatized enough. No, he’ll have to find out what happened and talk to them after he’s cooled down. He can feel his temple pulse with pressure. He turns away from them and surveys the mess. “Jus’ my luck dis would happen today, I don’t got time for this yanno?” He snaps his fingers with annoyance and a yellow green fire ignites in places around the room. Instead of burning more things away, time seems to reverse, the things that were damaged reshaping and becoming brand new again. He walks over to the lower cupboard and stoops to open the door.

“Come on, out ya get. It ain’t gonna hurt cha,” He helps them out of their hiding space, “Get on outta here, take the rest of th’ day off.” He had meant it kindly, but he was too riled up to talk to them calmly. He knew he sounded harsh. . . he couldn’t help it right now. They shakily back away and he follows them out into the lounge. Barbeus pauses to watch the human hurry away, making sure they are alright, before his bright eyes move to glower at the nervous staff. “If I told ya idiots once I told ya a thousand times. This ain’t no place for spits and spats! An I’m not gonna be givin’ no warnings anymore. Any of yous causin’ trouble is gonna get fired like yous pal jus’ did. Got it? You all got woik to do. Go an do it.” He gives an annoyed huff and turns smartly on his heel, stomping back the way towards the stairs.

He’s angry enough to know that he won’t be bothered for a little while, at least that will give him time to cool his jets. He decides in the meantime to rest a little longer before he heads back to his office. He pointedly ignores the bright ripples of sunshine inside of his room, and lays down.

Once he is back in his office, he is feeling much less irritable. Getting more sleep under his belt certainly helped. He sits at his desk writing, a part of him almost feeling bad that he had gotten rid of one of his workers. . . then again. . . they had doggedly went after the little human despite his wishes. He already had a talk with his worker about the kid. They didn’t have anywhere to go, and they had needed a job. As much as the environment wasn’t human friendly, he had tried to set something up for them that they could do and still be safe. Apparently those careful precautions weren’t good enough since they still had managed to set the break room on fire-- no, he corrects himself, that idiot had set the break room on fire. Not the human. With how skittish they had been previously, he was surprised that they ended up getting into any kind of conflict. Though it had seemed one sided, and a little bit of poking around confirmed that. He had found that the human had stood up to their co-worker and it had gotten out of hand because of the ex-employees temper and combativeness. “Well, good riddance. I don’t need anymore trouble.” he hurumphs to himself, lighting a cigar with a snap and watching the smoke coil up into the air. He leans back into his chair thinking, “What to do. . . What to do. . . well, I would think after that, that kid will wanna resign. Guess I’ll talk to em tomorrow and take it from there.”

—— Second part!!

The big demon sits at his desk, looking through papers and filing them, he hears a click as the door to his private office opens and you peek around the corner. "Barbeus? Sir? You wanted to see me?" Barbie gives a little grin at your shy face, "Sure did. Come on in kiddo." You shuffle your feet shyly before you step inside. The big demon lights a cigar, ghoulish yellow smoke emitting from the end as he clenches it between his teeth. He stares at you thoughtfully for a moment. "So. How have ya been getting on in my city uh? As th' only human running around an' doing work for me. . . the least I can do is make sure your stay is comfortable." You stare at him. "Ah. . ." This wasn't the kind of talk you were expecting at all. Usually your big boss is known for being ill-tempered and grouchy. You expected you were going to be chewed out for almost causing a catastrophe in one of the break rooms. In which part of the break room had been torched to charcoal and you had almost gotten yourself killed by attempting to stand up to a former work mate. And "former" was the understatement of the year. Barbeus has resigned their employment and them in green and yellow fire. Admittedly. . . you were expecting the same treatment. . . "Y-you're not mad?" Barbeus quirks an eyebrow. "What? Me? Mad? About what?" He squints at the guilt scrawled all over your face. "Ya think I'd be mad about that?" He touches two of his fingers to his forehead looking as if you had shown up to work with a newly grown second head. "The guy almost kills ya. . . and you think what? It's your fault?"