(no subject)
I am on a roll! Schu muse is being a darling and demanding that I write more of his exploits.
Title Obsession: Fragmented
Rating Still nothing offensive
Characters Schuldig, Tot, and mentions of Crawford and Neu
Summary Though he has been forbidden, he finds himself outside her bedroom window, waiting for some kind of opportunity, some kind of sign.
Notes Just wanted to mention for nuraya since you are not familiar with the characters: Tot is 17, but her mind has been tampered with, removing her memories and real personality, leaving her acting like a young child (though she's a trained killer). She carries a little white stuffed bunny rabbit with her, and talks about herself in the third person. You can probably understand now why I am intrigued with her. ;)
He knew he wasn't supposed to be here. He'd been expressly forbidden, or whatever fancy words Crawford had used. You will be punished if you disobey, he could hear the warning reverberating in his head. But it paled in comparison to the draw of that mind. It almost felt indecent to be sitting here, in the whipping cold, outside the girl's window, listening to her. She was talking to that rabbit again, always the rabbit! He tried to pry, tried to figure out where the rabbit had come from, why she clung to it as though it were her only tie to the world.
What shall Tot have to drink before bed, Mr. Bunny? Neu has invited Tot to have tea with her, but Tot wonders whether it would be best to have milk instead? Tea might keep her awake, Mr. Bunny. Tot has a long day ahead of her tomorrow! She shall have to wake early, Schon has told her. So do you think it would be wise for Tot to have warm milk instead? Yes? You are always so thoughtful, Mr. Bunny. Tot wishes to thank you for giving her such wisdom! Would you like to come downstairs with Tot and Neu? You would? That is wonderful, My. Bunny! Come along, then.
The click and close of the door made him sit up straighter and glance around. There was no one to be seen, no presence felt. Should he go inside? Her window was open a crack, it was almost as though she were inviting him in herself! It would be practically rude to not take this offered chance. After all, he thought to himself as he slipped inside her room, she will be thanking him when he manages to succeed in cracking her mind.
He stood in the middle of the bedroom, his eyes looking from wall to bed, and back again. It was a very strange room, one filled with childish toys and pretty pictures, but he could feel already that it was devoid of character. This room had been designed for her, created as an aide to suppression. She was locked inside the pretty ballerina jewelry box of a little girl, an idol among all her treasures, always on display, always caged.
The carpet was a deep plush, snow white and bright as though no one had ever stepped on it. There were no worn patches, no marks of footprints even except for his own. Very odd. Her bed was on a slightly raised platform, pink and purple and girly. Very girly.
What was he doing here, exactly? What was he looking for? He knew he wouldn't find anything about her here. That would be foolish.
You will be punished if you disobey.
He ignored that annoying voice in his head, the one that kept telling him to climb back out through the window and leave, to go back to the apartment before Crawford returned from his meeting with Takatori. He looked at his watch - fifteen minutes. That would give him enough time to make it through the door before the black car would pull into its spot in the garage. By the time the American opened the door to their apartment, he could be lounging on the balcony, chewing on one of the hundred multicoloured straws Crawford had bought him (though he gave him a disapproving glare every time he reached for one).
Of course Crawford would know that he'd been here, but he'd also know that he'd made the decision to leave before getting involved any further, so he wouldn't bother chastising him for it this time. He'd just tell him to throw away the straw and feed Farfarello. That would be punishment enough.
The smart thing to do would be to leave. But Schuldig had never prided himself on being the smart one, because he'd never been smart. He'd been knowledgeable, intuitive, resourceful. But not smart. He'd never needed to be.
He moved to her dresser, his fingers reaching out towards the silver hairbrush. He hesitated before touching it, listening. Thank you, Neu, Tot does love her new hairbow! Daddy picked it out just for Tot, that's what he told her. Mr. Bunny told her that she ought to put it on straightaway. He always knows what is best for Tot. Still downstairs.
He picked the brush up, holding it in his hand, weighing it, turning it over. There were no hairs caught in it, no sign that it was ever used. Was it just another decoration, then? He laid it back down in precisely the spot he had picked it up from. He moved on to the hand mirror, his eyes looking over the ornate detailing on the back. He picked it up and turned it over and nearly dropped it. The mirror was fragmented, cracked. Every piece was still intact, however, but still. Was this a sign? A signal that he was meant to pursue her? Surely, this could not be simple coincidence.
He stared at his broken reflection, and wondered if she did the same. Did she know? Did she have moments of lucidity? Even the best jobs could begin to fade over time. Maybe she was beginning to unravel? Maybe he was meant to split her further apart?
He put the mirror back down, having found what he'd come looking for. It hadn't been information after all. It had been a sign. She couldn't tell him in words what she wanted him to do, but she could tell him with actions, through allegory. When had she broken it? He needed to know. Should he go looking?
You will be punished when you disobey.
Why was he obsessed? It had never been from boredom, that had simply been the lazy way to explain. Crawford could not understand, would never understand. He would scold, and he would punish, and he would forbid him time and again. But he would never understand, and that would be what truly drove him mad with frustration. Through their years together as a team, Schuldig had never truly pushed his boundaries. He knew how they worked, he and Crawford. He knew his place. Was this truly worth the risk of upsetting that?
Tot and Mr. Bunny wish you a good evening, Neu! They are going to bed now because tomorrow is very important!
He climbed out of the window, perching outside again. The opening click of the door had him holding his breath, and the closing click had him letting it out slowly, closing his eyes and savouring the taste of her thoughts, better than any nicotine fix could be. She hummed to herself as she began removing her clothing and preparing for bed, and he kept his eyes closed and sifted through her thoughts, probing gently while caressing the surface, not wanting to disturb the ebb and flow. The hand mirror, he kept thinking, the broken hand mirror...
What do you think, Mr. Bunny? Do you think Tot looks pretty with a broken face? Like her broken head?
Two seconds of silence passed before his eyes flew open and he snuck a glance in through her window. How she captivated him in that moment, her delicate fingers holding the silver mirror, staring into the broken shards. She was smiling, and he could see her reflection in her mind, as though he was looking through her eyes. Was he looking through her eyes? Was he imagining that he could feel the mirror in his fingers? Was she that empty, that void of memories and the past that all she contained was the present, that the sensation of flesh on silver was so overpowering that she projected it into him?
It is time for Tot to sleep, Mr. Bunny! She will be lonely in her big bed. Would you like to join her, Mr. Bunny? You would? That is wonderful! It will be like having a sleep over, Mr. Bunny! You will tell each other your secrets. Tot will enjoy that!
He pulled out of her head for a moment, looking out into the sky and gripping the stone of the balcony to anchor himself in his own body. He could understand now why Crawford did not want him involved. The risk existed that he may lose himself inside her thoughts. He was willing to take the risk.
Crawford would not understand.
Schuldig would not explain.
Title Obsession: Fragmented
Rating Still nothing offensive
Characters Schuldig, Tot, and mentions of Crawford and Neu
Summary Though he has been forbidden, he finds himself outside her bedroom window, waiting for some kind of opportunity, some kind of sign.
Notes Just wanted to mention for nuraya since you are not familiar with the characters: Tot is 17, but her mind has been tampered with, removing her memories and real personality, leaving her acting like a young child (though she's a trained killer). She carries a little white stuffed bunny rabbit with her, and talks about herself in the third person. You can probably understand now why I am intrigued with her. ;)
He knew he wasn't supposed to be here. He'd been expressly forbidden, or whatever fancy words Crawford had used. You will be punished if you disobey, he could hear the warning reverberating in his head. But it paled in comparison to the draw of that mind. It almost felt indecent to be sitting here, in the whipping cold, outside the girl's window, listening to her. She was talking to that rabbit again, always the rabbit! He tried to pry, tried to figure out where the rabbit had come from, why she clung to it as though it were her only tie to the world.
What shall Tot have to drink before bed, Mr. Bunny? Neu has invited Tot to have tea with her, but Tot wonders whether it would be best to have milk instead? Tea might keep her awake, Mr. Bunny. Tot has a long day ahead of her tomorrow! She shall have to wake early, Schon has told her. So do you think it would be wise for Tot to have warm milk instead? Yes? You are always so thoughtful, Mr. Bunny. Tot wishes to thank you for giving her such wisdom! Would you like to come downstairs with Tot and Neu? You would? That is wonderful, My. Bunny! Come along, then.
The click and close of the door made him sit up straighter and glance around. There was no one to be seen, no presence felt. Should he go inside? Her window was open a crack, it was almost as though she were inviting him in herself! It would be practically rude to not take this offered chance. After all, he thought to himself as he slipped inside her room, she will be thanking him when he manages to succeed in cracking her mind.
He stood in the middle of the bedroom, his eyes looking from wall to bed, and back again. It was a very strange room, one filled with childish toys and pretty pictures, but he could feel already that it was devoid of character. This room had been designed for her, created as an aide to suppression. She was locked inside the pretty ballerina jewelry box of a little girl, an idol among all her treasures, always on display, always caged.
The carpet was a deep plush, snow white and bright as though no one had ever stepped on it. There were no worn patches, no marks of footprints even except for his own. Very odd. Her bed was on a slightly raised platform, pink and purple and girly. Very girly.
What was he doing here, exactly? What was he looking for? He knew he wouldn't find anything about her here. That would be foolish.
You will be punished if you disobey.
He ignored that annoying voice in his head, the one that kept telling him to climb back out through the window and leave, to go back to the apartment before Crawford returned from his meeting with Takatori. He looked at his watch - fifteen minutes. That would give him enough time to make it through the door before the black car would pull into its spot in the garage. By the time the American opened the door to their apartment, he could be lounging on the balcony, chewing on one of the hundred multicoloured straws Crawford had bought him (though he gave him a disapproving glare every time he reached for one).
Of course Crawford would know that he'd been here, but he'd also know that he'd made the decision to leave before getting involved any further, so he wouldn't bother chastising him for it this time. He'd just tell him to throw away the straw and feed Farfarello. That would be punishment enough.
The smart thing to do would be to leave. But Schuldig had never prided himself on being the smart one, because he'd never been smart. He'd been knowledgeable, intuitive, resourceful. But not smart. He'd never needed to be.
He moved to her dresser, his fingers reaching out towards the silver hairbrush. He hesitated before touching it, listening. Thank you, Neu, Tot does love her new hairbow! Daddy picked it out just for Tot, that's what he told her. Mr. Bunny told her that she ought to put it on straightaway. He always knows what is best for Tot. Still downstairs.
He picked the brush up, holding it in his hand, weighing it, turning it over. There were no hairs caught in it, no sign that it was ever used. Was it just another decoration, then? He laid it back down in precisely the spot he had picked it up from. He moved on to the hand mirror, his eyes looking over the ornate detailing on the back. He picked it up and turned it over and nearly dropped it. The mirror was fragmented, cracked. Every piece was still intact, however, but still. Was this a sign? A signal that he was meant to pursue her? Surely, this could not be simple coincidence.
He stared at his broken reflection, and wondered if she did the same. Did she know? Did she have moments of lucidity? Even the best jobs could begin to fade over time. Maybe she was beginning to unravel? Maybe he was meant to split her further apart?
He put the mirror back down, having found what he'd come looking for. It hadn't been information after all. It had been a sign. She couldn't tell him in words what she wanted him to do, but she could tell him with actions, through allegory. When had she broken it? He needed to know. Should he go looking?
You will be punished when you disobey.
Why was he obsessed? It had never been from boredom, that had simply been the lazy way to explain. Crawford could not understand, would never understand. He would scold, and he would punish, and he would forbid him time and again. But he would never understand, and that would be what truly drove him mad with frustration. Through their years together as a team, Schuldig had never truly pushed his boundaries. He knew how they worked, he and Crawford. He knew his place. Was this truly worth the risk of upsetting that?
Tot and Mr. Bunny wish you a good evening, Neu! They are going to bed now because tomorrow is very important!
He climbed out of the window, perching outside again. The opening click of the door had him holding his breath, and the closing click had him letting it out slowly, closing his eyes and savouring the taste of her thoughts, better than any nicotine fix could be. She hummed to herself as she began removing her clothing and preparing for bed, and he kept his eyes closed and sifted through her thoughts, probing gently while caressing the surface, not wanting to disturb the ebb and flow. The hand mirror, he kept thinking, the broken hand mirror...
What do you think, Mr. Bunny? Do you think Tot looks pretty with a broken face? Like her broken head?
Two seconds of silence passed before his eyes flew open and he snuck a glance in through her window. How she captivated him in that moment, her delicate fingers holding the silver mirror, staring into the broken shards. She was smiling, and he could see her reflection in her mind, as though he was looking through her eyes. Was he looking through her eyes? Was he imagining that he could feel the mirror in his fingers? Was she that empty, that void of memories and the past that all she contained was the present, that the sensation of flesh on silver was so overpowering that she projected it into him?
It is time for Tot to sleep, Mr. Bunny! She will be lonely in her big bed. Would you like to join her, Mr. Bunny? You would? That is wonderful! It will be like having a sleep over, Mr. Bunny! You will tell each other your secrets. Tot will enjoy that!
He pulled out of her head for a moment, looking out into the sky and gripping the stone of the balcony to anchor himself in his own body. He could understand now why Crawford did not want him involved. The risk existed that he may lose himself inside her thoughts. He was willing to take the risk.
Crawford would not understand.
Schuldig would not explain.