"we never discussed what happened between us." ( puppet situationship time )
️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️THE BALLADEER IS STRANGE. nearly anyone can make that observation. doll oft thinks of his standoffish nature, his crude remarks, the disdainful sneers across the table while foolishly trailing after the PATH laid 'fore him by the doctor. sandrone wondered for a while amongst the tinkering, the small moments of scrutiny while piecing together a porcelain automaton, her glass cannon ; how puppets remain as puppets when they cannot find their ground. of course, seventh never said a thing. they already ARGUED enough on a regular ——— to extend it would be a waste of time.
still, she could feel it, a sense of KINDRED connection in the air when he lingered. the delicate craftsmanship of his skin, mimicking perfection, much like herself, has placed her & him in this strange SPACE of understanding. sometimes they bickered over the table nonstop, spitting venom as face scrunched through a long line of disagreements. other times, they LINGERED, hovering around each other. asking, probing, just as curious, even if they refused to admit it. then, foolishly, she'd welcome him in her workshop, trying to find some components.
️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️though the truth was blatant, it was a means to admire closely. what he hid, she did not probe for.
there would be no reason to, when she knows he would never provide an answer. his synthesis was almost FLAWLESS, she hated to admit. but she hardly fell behind either. behind every bark and bite was a step reciprocated, the twisting gears — rewinding clockwork. too intimate, too close. but never enough to be anything when they scoff and SHOVE each other away after it all.
" discuss what ? " haughty as ever, chin raised, head cocked to the side with a FROWN as deep as ever. " like how you needed motor oil to grease your busted up knee ? nothing happened. "