puppy doll

she doesn’t punch—isn’t in the mood too, and besides, sophie isn’t doing anything wrong. given how aris has kept the other girl in the corner of her vision this entire time, the sudden greeting doesn’t come as a surprise. the display of her phone is dimmed immediately; no need to let her see that aris’d just been browsing breaddit instead of actually talking to anyone.

it’d mostly been overdone memes on her feed today, anyway.

“hey,” she starts, then furrows her brows when sophie begins to tug at her. “wait, go? where are we going?” despite the protests, though, she finds herself following—it’s out of habit, more than anything else. “sophie?”

“somewhere fun!” 

“somewhere you’re going to like!” she grabs aris’s hand, pulling her towards the back exit. 

“trust me.” she winks, then walks out of the bar. she’s still holding onto aris tightly, pulling her through the streets, refusing to give a name to where they’re going. in fact, one might think she didn’t even have a solid idea before she did this-- 

“here!” she pulls aris into the steakhouse a few blocks away from the bar. the smell of steak fills the air. “two please!” and they’re brought to their seats. the place is far quieter than the bar, and provided more intimacy. 

there’s claps on her back and excited chatter once she’s dragged into the midst of things, and aris manages a smile ( for optics, more than anything ). it won’t do to give the others another reason to feel as if she hadn’t pulled her weight.

she can’t help it. she holds herself to a different standard; not like the substitutes, even those who hadn’t played, who’re still chattering merrily away as the group and their friends start walking towards the nearest campus bar. briefly, aris wonders if she finds their behaviour pointless or envies them.

             “cheers! c’mon, chug, chug, chug!”

tonight, at least, she’s content to watch the action unfold from one of the side tables—after, of course, leaving sophie at the main one where the most action is going on. an alleged ‘i’m going to the washroom’ had been the perfect excuse, and now she watches pitcher after pitcher of beer being brought over there. aris nurses her own mug, absently scrolling through her phone at the same time. it just isn’t her night.

the atmosphere is lively and sophie had fun, at first, but than a stray gaze finally spots aris drinking by herself in another table. she’s looking at her phone rather than the others. on one hand, this is a night sophie should celebrate with the team, clinking her class to commemorate their victory. on the other hand, that’s aris who’s isolating herself. 

“i need to use the bathroom!” she says, excusing herself from the crowd and squeezing through the teammates asking her where she’s going. 

sop ii opens the small little gold wrapped box. a little mini dinergate the size of her hand emerges. the little thing crawls onto her hand and rubs its face (or facelike thing) against soppo’s hand. the little thing, in a mechanical voice, emits a sound much like “daaaa!”

“ah--” soppo pets the little thing on the head, and it rolls over, happy to receive affection. “you’re so cute!” she sparkles, happy at her little sentient gift. “i’ll call you... lemon!” 

“i do have a screw loose!” sop ii says. she totally understands the humor and shade behind this gift, but she doesn’t care because she literally had something she needs to fix.

she takes one of the screw drivers and heads over to her bed, tightening one of the screws that had been loose. a happy smile appears on her face. she makes a mental note to thank central for her gift, but also prank her. something that strikes a good balance between vengeance and gratitude. maybe she should loosen the screws with this kit of central’s chair and watch her fall right onto the ground when she sits while gifting her some delicious cookies.

she’s happy. there’s no denying that she’s glad for her teammates, especially that it’s sophie of all people who’d sunk the winning shot—but the bitter undertone just won’t go away. aris is standing and cheering as well, but even as the other benched players run towards the players on the court, she hangs back.

i’ll just blame the ankle. taking in one more moment of their victory ( not hers ), aris is fully prepared to utter an excuse and take her leave now, but a voice stops her short. she turns, and there’s a mixed expression on her face; why? comes to the forefront of countless other questions, because sophie should be basking in the glory of her win. 

she shouldn’t be wasting time here. “hey. congrats,” she manages, then reaches up and attempts to steer her back towards the rest of the team. “what are you doing? get back over there—they’re cheering for you, dummy.”

she grabs ar-15′s hands, holding them tightly in hers. sophie isn’t a fool (sometimes) and she’s known aris for what seems like forever. she can tell she’s upset from that tone, that expression, no matter how hard she tried to hold it in. “they’re cheering for everyone! it’s a team effort,” she says, trying to steer ar-15 to the celebration, bringing her to the heart of the joy and excitement. maybe the victorious spirit will infect her. maybe that’ll bring the smile sophie longed to see onto that face. 

“sophie, meal on us!”

“that was a great shot!” 

“party!!” 

Olivia silently stared at her bingo card, looking at every possible spot she needed just to get a bingo. Yet so far, victory eluded her. Though the young woman next to her clearly was close to a bingo as well, it was clear that she was having similar poor luck as well.

And such foul language too.

“You should watch your language, young lady. Such foul language should be cleaned out with soap if you keep this up.”

As she spoke, the announcer called another number.

“n-38″

Another spot for her to clear, but still not one she needed. With so few spots left, victory was starting to slip from her grasps, yet she was determined to see just how her luck fared.

“ehhh?” 

sophie looks at the old granny who has just reprimanded her for her language. if she hadn’t been reprimanded by the team lead in charge of the event earlier, she might’ve stuck out her tongue and blown a raspberry. but, because she’s a mature college student who is supposed to be a poised and classy representative of spirale university, she only sticks out her tongue and doesn’t blow a raspberry. 

“war necessitates such language!” she says. “this is serious, you know--”

“o-65!”

is there a point in winning for her, if it isn’t her doing the winning? bitter thoughts surface at sophie’s cheer, and she can hardly manage more than a grimace in response—thankfully, the other girl’s attention is back on the court by then. not that she’s ever bothered to hide much in front of her; being childhood friends means facing the full wrath of aris’s moody tendencies, since she’s never been one to hold her tongue around sophie.

as she watches the game go on, eyes hold their focus against the substitute. she’s too slow—there, she’s leaving a huge opening, and the opponent steals the ball as expected. a click of aris’s tongue is audible. sloppy. she’d have carried them to a larger lead by now. she’d have been better, it should’ve been—

but despite everything, the buzzer finally sounds on a full, resounding win for their team.

she dunks the ball. the buzzer sounds. sophie immediately looks at the scoreboard -- victory! “we did it!” she yells, her team already beginning to circle her, attempting to carry her and throw her into the air. one cheer, one throw, another cheer, another throw. she’s smiling widely, cheering with her team. they won the finals. they won gold among so many other teams. 

but... her happiness doesn’t last, the adrenaline fades and a certain someone enters her mind again.

      aris!

it’s the worst possible outcome. today, of all days—it’s an important game for their team, and they’re barely ten minutes in. even before the rush of bodies surrounds her ( distantly, she makes out sophie’s voice as the first to reach her, but barely reacts ), features are already contorted into a wince. 

she knows. she doesn’t need the doctor to tell her that she can’t play any more, doesn’t need to protest aloud that, “it really isn’t that bad!” ( she does anyway ) because deep down, she knows. she’s let the team down, and in front of all their spectators to boot.

when she’s led off the court and eventually settled onto the bench with an ice pack to hold against the gradually swelling ankle, aris can barely bring herself to watch the game as it continues. the only eye contact made is accidental, gazes locking briefly with sophie’s—then, she stares down at her own foot with a muttered curse.

she knows how much the game means for aris. she knows how much this sport, this team means to her friend now banished to the bench because of an injury. sophie stares, completely dumbfounded by what just happened. their eyes meet, but only for a while. aris is the one to look away. 

the coach barks instructions out for the team members. the substitute forward, some sophomore who sophie barely talks to, takes aris’s position in court. she can hear the coach shouting at her to get her ass back to position and finish the game. 

“hehehehehe.” 

a low, rather evil chuckle escapes the lips of the youngest person in the elder care facility. the young girl crosses out the number on the piece of paper in front of her. “one more till bingo...” sophie whispers to herself, pencil tapping the paper as she waited for the announcer to call her winning number. 

with a shit eating grin on her face, she glances over at her neighbor’s paper. a frown appears on her face. her neighbor is close to a bingo too. 

darn! the announcer better call my number!

“i-27!”

“—will team ANTIRAIN be the first to score? that’s AR-15 with possession, and look at that footwork! what a show tonight, ladies and gentlemen!”

rhythmic footsteps in sync with the ball, the announcer’s and crowd’s voices thundering around her—darting around the opposing forward, aris can’t stop the smirk of triumph that’s already beginning to creep onto her features. the first point of the game determines everything when it comes to morale, and she’s gonna be the one to sink it.

it all lasts until a single, fatal misstep around the shooting guard, and the next thing she knows, there’s a strained yell from her throat as the world pitches around her.

@treevolving

“ar-15!” sophie rushes to her teammate’s side, not caring whather or not the ref had even called for a time out yet. in a flash, she’s already kneeling down besides her injured friend. sophie scans aris for any signs of injury. and, there it is. her ankle is already beginning to swell from the sprain. “aris...” a frown appears on her face, “shit...” but, before she can do anything rash, the medical professionals already ran onto the court, pushing sophie aside (gently) to treat her wounded teammate. 

meet sophie (soppo) matsu. (also) born and raised in fibbonaci ward’s upper levels where she became friends (after chasing some cats and getting lost in the lower wards) with a certain athletic star.

has parachuted down to the lower wards before to meet up with her friend.

currently studying at spirale university as a first year student. has an interest in biology because she loves performing those dissections. minoring in computer science so she can be in the same classes as aris star. might become a double major at this rate. she is a great student... sometimes. sometimes goes way off what she’s supposed to do and creates/does something that’s forbidden. but she puts on a cute face and they usually let her off despite the fact she decapitated that frog. 

she has been banned from the science labs if not supervised because she has performed some unauthorized dissections.

joined the basketball team because she doesn’t understand limits and wants to be with her friend. known to be one of the roughest and rashest on the team, not afraid to play offensive even when she should be playing defense. but hey, it works (not always but most times!) has a temper on court despite that cute face.

gets into fights to protect the cute girls from bullies/harassment often. did this throughout high school and now in university because she’s chaotic lawful that way.

does not cut school because what if they’re dissecting something.

“ehHHHhHHHH, PICKLES??!!!” sop ii says, surprised at the gift. but, she lets out a good natured laugh, because this is definitely not pickles. perhaps it’s a relative, but she is very sure pickles had disappeared in a wisp of smoke, not made into jerky. so, she picks out a piece and stuffs it in her mouth (as a power move). 

this won’t be fun in the slightest. AR-15 is a t-doll who knows her own strengths and weaknesses, and knows them well—that’s part of being able to work on them and improve where needed, after all. dancing, specifically, is something that she’ll never need to be skilled at in order to succeed on the battlefield. getting too used to this kind of comfortable complacency will only ruin that part of her.

so, she is rigid. SOP-II’s attempts to position her arms are met with slight resistance, but she eventually caves after yet another glare ( this time, promising an extended tongue-lashing after this is all over ). maybe she’d have enjoyed watching others dance, but swaying to the music as they are is just embarrassing. she isn’t making much effort to mimic the movements of the others, instead choosing to avert her gaze and wait until her teammate’s had her fill.

but then, there’s a shift in the mood. lighting is dimmed, music is slowed, and then she’s all too conscious of how nearly everyone else on the dance floor seem to be couples—really, this is definitely the time to make their escape now. it’d only been half a song, but she’s put up with SOP-II’s whims enough.

( besides, she knows that the other t-doll doesn’t genuinely mean half of her fake pouts and sulky expressions ).

when she finally turns to reprimand the other t-doll a final time before leaving, though, something about the look on SOP-II’s face steals the words from her lips. eyes are closed and there’s a satisfied, happy smile against those features—for once, it doesn’t seem like a prank at AR-15’s expense.

something inside her softens slightly, and when her partner’s lids blink open once more and she’s led into a twirl, she goes along with it. fine, she thinks to herself, just one dance.

and she steps on SOP-II’s foot again—this time, completely accidentally. “shit—!”

                                                    ( there goes the mood. )

the mood could’ve disappeared, but sop ii resists the urge to say “ow!” extremely loudly. instead, she bites the brief pang of pain away... and smiles. it is kinda funny -- the normally composed ar-15 cursing of all things because she isn’t able to dance properly and stepped on her teammate’s foot. she lets out a little laugh and she takes the lead again, gently trying her best to recover from that small, cute fluke of her partner. 

“that’s the first time i heard you curse, ar-15,” she muses. ar-15 was always so composed in the team, inside and outside of battle. even in the midst of danger, she had a plan (unlike a certain soppo who preferred to go gun blazing into the enemy). she laughs again, savoring that new memory added to her neural network. her dance partner’s little misstep during a romantic waltz. these are the memories she wants to make. these are the things she wants more of since they had the opportunity in this world. who knows when it could happen again? 

       who knows when it could disappear?

“it’s not too hard, ar-15!” she says, gripping ar-15′s hand just a bit tighter. “one, two, three, four... and repeat!” she explains, foot gently nudging ar-15′s, making sure the right one moved front and back at the beat of the music. “you should have been able to analyze the pattern easily and got the moves right...” sop ii sighs exaggeratedly. they’re two dolls of the same feather with abilities (besides weapon linked) that are virtually the same. “you were too focused on leaving!” she chastises. she sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry. “you suck, ar-15. won’t even give me one dance!” one out of many.

“you need enjoy the moment!” she says. “enjoy ourselves!”

“since when were you this cynical?” she quips, even as she steps cleanly into SOP-II’s path and gives her a light push back towards the chair. “i meant ‘clean up’ as in your wounds, unless you wanna walk around with your guts exposed like that.” wires, guts—it’s the same thing, as far as their anatomies are concerned. “sit down. i’ll patch it up.”

before doing so, though, she does grab a different armchair and give it a sharp kick. it hits the door with a light thump; just enough strength to have it pressed up against the door as a barricade, but not nearly enough to have it break through the flimsy wood. good enough for now, since she doesn’t plan to stay here for long. they’ll get basic repairs done, then continue heading towards a safe zone.

if there are any. with features pressed into a light frown, she pulls out her smartphone with one hand while rifling through the establishment’s cupboards with the other—there’s gotta be something she can use here. a human first aid kit is found, then tossed onto the counter. useless for their purposes. she settles for some empty cans, and sets to tearing them apart, emptying any final drops of substance that remain, then washing them out.

the sound of water running fills the room briefly, and then she begins to read. “reports are coming in about churches being safe zones—apparently, holy water’s pretty effective against some of these things. people are calling them ‘shamblers.’ there’s other types too, apparently. ‘geists’ can possess people, but i don’t think that’ll work on dolls like us.”

she shuts off the faucet then, and makes her way back over to SOP-II with a sigh. “here. i can at least cover the exposed part with some metal.”

she pouts. “patching it will only prevent some wear -- it won’t return function,” she says, still not cooperating. part of her is still bitter that this happened. it could have been prevented. she would have been fully functioning. instead, the image of m4 was preserved over sop ii’s functionality. 

she tries to push away the thoughts, the emotions. she tries to be the happy sop ii who would go along with ar-15′s plan. they’re teammates after all. showing this bitterness would only worsen things between then, especially at a critical time like this. she tries. she really does. but, those emotions she felt -- those unnecessary emotions refused to leave. 

she locks her eyes on ar-15, watching as she rummages, looking for something to patch sop ii with. 

she wants to break the silence. ask her about before. talk to her. find some way to subside the emotions brewing within her. how hard would it be to ask one question -- just one question to quiet the emotions? 

            apparently extremely hard. 

so, sop ii stays silent. uncharacteristic of her, but the words just won’t form. she only talks after ar-15 provides her report about the situation, giving some insight into the creatures that suddenly attacked them. “church and holy water, huh...?” she repeats, her mind thinking of a plan, though she has no real module to come up with an effective one. “then we should make our way there as soon as possible... don’t want to take any risks,” she speaks without her usual exuberance. her gaze is now on the floor, staring intently at the rotting wood under her feet. 

         she’s still trying to think of what to say.