A Blade and Her Witch

Dreams Are Not a Function of This Frame (Frame 514.5)

 

Content Warnings:

 

And yet… this one experiences motions it did not make. 

Words it did not say.

Tunnels it did not tread.

Spires it did not climb.

Dolls it did not break.

The Rust never brought false memories. It overwhelmed Function with perfect recall of past motions, yes. But… not this. Never before in these moments before awakening has it ever drowned in new things.

And as the part of this Frame’s mind called ‘Verbess’ sits poised on the brink before clicking up into Giyar One… It feels fear.

Has the Rust spread so far?

No. No! It's been getting better! Rebinding old loose strands into fresh pathways, weaving functions out of the broken parts left torn and frayed when the other sisters fell into disfunction! Not… not perfect. Not like it was but… but more whole than it would be otherwise.

Better than Rusting so much that this one cannot answer when called by those it functions to protect.

Schatzi kept it awake through long hours of service it would have otherwise strained and buckled under. Showed this one, as some jungle creature’s mother might let a cub rest upon their back and watch, how to be a Doll within the calm.

It… it’s not proficient at these things. Cleaning and cooking and talking softly to others while also listening to them talk. But… Schatzi did not insist it take up the main Functions of the Frame. Only… that it watch. Observe. Help consider little problems and offer its thoughts. 

And… like it did when strangled by flesh it hated it has grown stronger. Longed for Giyar Null less than ever.

So… Why now‽ 

Was… Is this a product of Xafra’s shared songs?

No, these are separate. Distinctly so. Her’s are perfect while these are… frayed. 

Static. Unclear. Rusted.

It would wail Quills in furious warning at the things were it awake and these simple fleshy foes before it. But… Here in the stillness it can only buckle under the fear. 

NO! 

1. WILL. FUNCTION! 

And so it reaches for Schatzi, synchronizes with her. Finds she too rests within Giyar Null.

It hesitates.

Does this one wake sister?

It carefully spins up the Iphodian gears and adjusts their central function, moving to control the Frame without rousing Schatzi as they once did a younger sibling in flesh.

No. Not yet. She… This one needs to consider these new memory foes alone. 

But… Without motion, it is aware of parchment at the Frame’s side and… A strange bauble. A human heart spun within glass? And… And they are both drowned in the smell of blood.

Xafra’s blood.

Fangs almost pop free as it moves to sit up and consider the dark and quiet it lay within. Of the Mistress sleeping soundly on the bed and Xafra’s new frame settled at her side and… And how Schatzi laid them to rest nuzzled into the crook of our Witch’s knee.

A pause, then it unfurls the Parchment to read.

In frantic lettering, seeming closer to an attempt to cut through the parchment than write upon it, this one reads Xafra's words. <F-514. Offer. Form Pack. NOT replace. Blood of blood. Sibling If desired? Song Important.> Then… they trail off into symbols and characters that are incomprehensible.

The Frame shivers. Fights not to crack Quills free and wail in bitter agony as it recalls the memories shared. And… And of the desperate hope it carried, even before the last notes.

A symphonic, if somewhat clumsy, melody of one somewhat like it continuing to Function and persist despite her losses. Grief not shed away or removed but… carried. Held close. With every new prey their memory is honored.

While… while this Frame’s song is a small and pitiful thing, of a tool made defective and… and rightfully tossed aside and left to Rust. Purpose lost.

Verbess feels so worthless in contrast to Xafra.

She chooses her function. This one cannot. It… Even at the start. It was too foolish to understand it wanted to become what it was. Wasted itself for years before being caught and staked to the slab with the others. While they embraced the chance Dollhood offered it… it fought. Was the last of the pack to settle and accept. Mind finally cracked and Riven and tired of denying what it would best Function as. Always the smallest and least capable. Like a whelp just barely kept by the Pack.

It wants so much to wake the sister. Lean into her strength. But… it only closes itself off more, trying so hard to keep as much of the Rust and Ruin of this worse half from infecting her. Only tries to wake her when it is sure nothing of its thoughts and will and demeanor can spill over, does it reach out to rouse the Frame’s stable half. As one might voice a soft but insistent word from across the room to the resting. [S– Schatzi?]

She wakes instantly but calmly. [Yes, Verbess?]

It fixes eyes on the note. [What did the Mistress command this Frame do?]

[Mistress Elevar... did not.] Schatzi responds with steady words, lacking her usual intensity of emotion. [She refused to look at the note, though Miss Xafra explained vaguely what it is to allay concerns. We, You and I, Sister, are to make this choice without guidance or instructions. Her only thing to say on it was that she will respect and abide by our decision whatever it is.] 

The Frame shivers and shakes as this one withdraws farther. [Is... Punishment? Testing? It... This one does not understand.]

Does she know? Is… is Mistress aware of this? Was her demand for it to remain awake awake to speed this half into–

[Sister. Consider, does this seem like something that Miss Xafra would accept as a test? That is Xafra's heart that she pulled free, A note she wrote in her own blood, both done only moments before collapsing. I pray for Mistress' sake that she does not consider this a test or punishment, as... I find it unlikely you would succeed at defending her from Xafra.]

Quills crack free at that. Almost… but no. Mistress long ago found the Quills a thing of comfort in her rest. And Xafra doesn’t seem to stir. Even as this thing is sure conflicted fury exudes from Verbess as the thought of this old kin hurting Mistress.

[Then why!] It thrums as two arms split into four. Upper sprouting talons to twitch and filter anger as two lower clutch the note and heart protectively close. [Why… why ask it to choose! It has never been good at choices. Always chosen wrong. Both in refusing the initial offer to become itself, and… and the motions in… in the Pack’s final heartbeats. And here it is… this one wants… No. It doesn’t matter what it wants. What matters is what’s best for the Mistress and Schatzi.]

[It does matter.] Schatzi presses. [If it didn't, I would have made the choice while you rested. I will not take this choice from you. Yes, you, Verbess. We both heard the question Xafra asked with her coda to the Quill-song. You embracing your desire is what is best for both of us.]

[Desire is a Quirk of Good Function.] It growls old words that long since lost the memory to pair them with, all while the Quills rattle so gently at how that name stirs such deep longing within itself. [A lever to ensure a Doll moves with efficiency. This one desires all manner of things it is not built with the capacity to indulge in well. It… it does not want to hurt this Pack like it failed the last. This… This should be calculated. Thrice checked and chosen by those more functional than this one. Especially after…]

After what it awoke from this morning.

[Do... My sister. Do you want to stop being a Doll? Become... Something different?]

The question halts Function for a few of the Mistress’ heartbeats as it considers that. Fangs deftly splitting free to confirm…

[No. It… It likes being this. Even broken it cannot do anything but want to be this. And… It has enjoyed very much these past days of sitting at your back and watching you function. Waiting on your shoulder in case the calm turns to fury and… and being able to speak with Mistress and you and Xafra as you all Function.]

[Then... What would improve our situation for you? Another sharing the Frame? Modifications to our Functions? Alterations to the internal working of our Frame? Or... Xafra's offer?]

Nothing. Too late. It’s already started.

[It… doesn’t think anything can.] This one's talons dig into the beddings as it cannot stop the fear and anguish from reaching Schatzi. [Even the Pack alive and well wouldn’t… Wouldn’t fix it. Not now. It has tried, Schatzi. Tried to learn and tried to shed the Rust. But it can't and it spreads. Faster than it can remold itself. It wants to... to stay! To Function. But with every spinning of the gears and cogs it Rusts. Becomes more defective! Even... even...] Quills thrum in bitter fury as it hisses, [...Dreaming.]

A sure sign as any that a Doll's end is near.

Schatzi responds audibly with a strange bitter callous laugh. [Then let us die happy. Embrace the days we yet remain to the fullest. I did not prevent our demise for so long to have us end on a sad song.]

Xafra moves at the sound, an inquisitive growl ringing out.

It can’t stop itself, Verbess cracks the discord it had built to protect Schatzi from its own fear and pain and Rust and just… falls into her. Easier than ever pressing close and synchronizing itself to her melody as another might cling to sibling of flesh and blood. Letting its own desires fall like another might weep into the shirt of the one that holds them. 

Quills thrum in ravenous echo to its desperate yearning for the offering it clutches against their chest. Openly and without even a hint of doubt showing both Schatzi, and Xafra now that she's awake, this one's answer. [Yes. Please. This one would very much like to be Pack to you and Xafra.]

[Good.] Schatzi responds while Xafra simply nods and curls back up before sending a tiny information packet across the connection.

It... hesitates, but pulls this gifted mental thing between them before opening it. A simple yet… specific instruction is given. With a very vague result. And… before it could even think to ask… it knows what the Sister's answer will be. 

Always has been. 

Always will be.

And together we split fangs to easily envelope and ingest the heart harvested from Xafra’s Warlord form alongside the parchment. Forever making their ancient kin a part of this Frame. But… As the glass sits between teeth there is a consideration to preserve these treasures within us. Keep them safe to last long past this Frame’s eventual Rusting.

But… No.

Even as well-crafted and sturdy as Dolls are… our biggest flaw is that we struggle to change. Function and purpose set as deep within us as the cogs and gears and jade wrought skeleton. 

Like the sea… Xafra never seems to stop changing. Stop growing. Stop adapting.

We cannot be like her. But… perhaps we can be like the shifting sands her ocean claws at?

So together we bite down on the glass wrapped gift and let the meat and blood and parchment and shrapnel rain down into our throat. Washing over our tongue with the sweet and salty taste while edged shards cut gouges on their way down. Using all four limbs and deftly hooked tongue to catch and recover and devour every last scrap and drop and shard. 

Shivering at the sensations, basking in how our feast soon rains down within to settle… somewhere. We’re not sure. Our shiftings only ever affect our outer Frame, never the insides.

So other than a new sense of warmth. We don’t feel any immediate changes other than our minds' and hearts' weary relief at a well made choice.

This one folds away all its shiftings before moving the Frame to nuzzle back into the crook of Mistress’ knee. Intoning a soft. [Love you, sisters.] To the Pack, before falling once more into the stillness of Giyar Null.

No longer afraid of the Dreams it feels lurking within.

 

 

 

 

 

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Lamentations of The Dead Dreamer

Sun Spoken Turn

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