[TOY] Plaything

[skinstealer]

CROSSBONE: I-
CROSSBONE: That's not-

 

An irritated beep bursts out of you as your pixel character wiggles in unmasked annoyance.

CROSSBONE: How do you expect me to know anything if you won't tell me!
CROSSBONE: You're- you're not being fair!

 

Your keychain tail lashes, Snicker's brows raising as it makes imprints in the snow.

CROSSBONE: You tell ME about the curse user!
CROSSBONE: YOU'RE the one on guard!
CROSSBONE: Where do they show up!
CROSSBONE: When do they show up!
CROSSBONE: Who's targeted, where do they go after?!
CROSSBONE: If you're so much smarter than me-
CROSSBONE: Then surely YOU know that!

 

Snicker keeps her eyes trained on you-

-before laughing, a mechanical barking sound.

SNICKER: Finally! She has some guts!
SNICKER: City girl can speak with her whole chest after all!

 

...she's...not mad?

SNICKER: Sure.

 

oh

SNICKER: I'll fill you in.

 

ok

SNICKER: I'm the guard most days, yeah.
SNICKER: Vortex does just as much, but it's better suited for going out on rounds.
SNICKER: Thing's practically a monster itself.

 

She can't help but chuckle to herself, and not particularly kindly.

Corsair is simply staring at Snicker at this point, but she just seems to look tired more than anything.

SNICKER: So, I don't see a lot of this shit directly.
SNICKER: But I go out on hunts when it's necessary- and unfortunately that means cleanup duty.
CROSSBONE: ...c...cleanup?
SNICKER: I handle the bodies.

 

You feel your circuits short for a moment, the coldness to her tone making you wish you hadn't asked.

SNICKER: Sometimes they're already gone, sometimes- they wish they were.
SNICKER: I've seen toys that should have been long dead crawl around while still torn to pieces.
SNICKER: Seen a guy beg once.
SNICKER: Put him down myself.
SNICKER: ....
SNICKER: Lived down the road from the lodge.

 

She hesitates.

SNICKER: You asked for demographics.
SNICKER: From what I can tell, it's folks who live alone.
SNICKER: At first it was just toys who wouldn't get missed easy.
SNICKER: Outcast types.
SNICKER: Now it's the weirdos getting picked off that send more of a message.
SNICKER: Last one was already dead by the time we got there.
SNICKER: As far as I know, curse user set them up themself.
CORSAIR: . . .
CORSAIR: ...You gonna elaborate or you just waitin' for attention?
CORSAIR: We're burnin' daylight.
SNICKER: I was getting to it.
CORSAIR: Get to gettin' then.
SNICKER: They had words stitched into their chest, alright?
SNICKER: Toy got all warped up from the curse, massive.
SNICKER: Seams got ripped out of their face and their eye embroidery undone.
SNICKER: Thread got sewn back in as a message.

 

She opens her arms dramatically, eyes narrowing.

SNICKER: "WOE TO THE FAITHLESS".

 

There's no joy to it.

SNICKER: ...toy in question was a real nut. Guy named Garth.
SNICKER: Didn't believe in the narrative, would preach about it in the square.
SNICKER: Went missing one night, then some monster bodies showed up mangled in the woods.
SNICKER: Big bites taken out of them. We put two and two together.
SNICKER: Looked like the curse user let ol' Garth run around for a few nights to freak us out before maiming them and impaling them on a tree for us to find.
SNICKER: Like I said. A message.
CORSAIR: That just your guess?
CORSAIR: Any actual evidence the curse user did both?

 

Snicker's jaw clamps shut.





Her painted animatronic eyes roll to the side.

SNICKER: Well, either that or the swordsman.
SNICKER: Possible that freak's up to something, I guess.
SNICKER: Mange's theory is that he's the guy who strung up the body but I dunno.
SNICKER: I nicked him once with my gun and he's like.
SNICKER: Puny.
SNICKER: Which means he's fast, and he's good with that fucking sword of his-
SNICKER: But no way in hell he can lift a toy three times your size.
CORSAIR: Swordsman didn't do it.
CORSAIR: Doubt your curse user did either, but you're s'posed to be the hunter 'round here.
CORSAIR: Haven't *you?*
CORSAIR: Seems pretty stupid not to talk to someone you think might've had somethin' to do with all this.
CORSAIR: ...Not that you're a detective. You're more interested in killin' things, right?
CORSAIR: Or just cleanin' up bodies?
CORSAIR: Guess that's a lot easier than doin' anything about any of this, right?
SNICKER: Sheesh, who pissed in your cereal today?
SNICKER: Was a simple question!

 

She rolls her eyes.

Corsair leans her scepter to the side, pointing at you.

CORSAIR: Go ahead.



 

You have been frozen to the spot.

CROSSBONE: U-uh



CROSSBONE: Well



CROSSBONE: T-that's still-



CROSSBONE: That was only one of my questions.
SNICKER: ...right.
SNICKER: You wanted to know places.
SNICKER: Not my forte. Like I said, I'm the guy at the gate.
SNICKER: The times I get out there, it's because it's been made my fucking problem.
SNICKER: Vortex'd know better than me.
SNICKER: ...there, you know what?
SNICKER: That's my suggestion.
SNICKER: Go pester it in its shack.
SNICKER: Bout an hour's walk outside the wall.

 

...all that to go get told to ask somebody else...


You do your best to avoid looking stupid.

CROSSBONE: Th. Thank you for the help.
SNICKER: Yeah, yeah.
SNICKER: Take your keychain ass and your chaperone and start moving.
SNICKER: Sun goes down quicker than you'd expect.
CROSSBONE: ...it's morning.
SNICKER: Maybe where you come from, but out here- narrative packs a nasty sting.

 

She reaches for the crank at her side, raising the metal gate-

SNICKER: Go on. Get outta here.



 

-the only thing ahead of you looking like long stretches of snow and trees.






Zero signage at all.

CORSAIR: Uh-huh.

 

Corsair leans her scepter on her shoulder and steps through the open gate.

CORSAIR: You lock us out on the way back, and I'll bust the gate down.

 

She gives a wave, not looking in Snicker's direction.

SNICKER: What, and deal with your friends pitchin' a fit?
SNICKER: Noooo thank you!

 

You quickly catch up behind her-

And then the gate closes.

CORSAIR: . . .
CORSAIR: ...Sorry 'bout that.
CORSAIR: Pissed me off.
CROSSBONE: No, it's-
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: You did good.

 

She gives the slightest of shrugs.

CORSAIR: Got info, at least.
CORSAIR: Which is that: she doesn't know what the hell she's doin', and she's got no info.

 

The snake rubs her face.

CORSAIR: Sooner I'm outta this hellhole, th' better.
CROSSBONE: ...yeah.
CROSSBONE: I...
CROSSBONE: This isn't really what I expected either.
CORSAIR: ...You just wanna get cursed, then you're gone, right?
CROSSBONE: I mean, yeah, that's the plan-
CORSAIR: Good.
CORSAIR: Place ain't safe.
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: Then why...

 

You shake your head.

CROSSBONE: Sorry. Nosy.
CORSAIR: I'd rather you just ask it.
CROSSBONE: ...why are you sticking around, then?
CORSAIR: ...Not dangerous for me.
CORSAIR: And y'all need help while you're here, right?
CROSSBONE: But-
CROSSBONE: You didn't even know us before last night.
CORSAIR: . . .
CORSAIR: ...haven't been here long.
CORSAIR: ...but you want an actual answer, right?

 

You nod a little.

She's ahead of you, not looking in your direction.

But it seems like she can tell, somehow.

CORSAIR: . . .
CORSAIR: Helpin' y'all out beats what I was doin' before.
CROSSBONE: ....what are you gonna do after, then?

 

She rubs her chin with a thumb, then shrugs.

CORSAIR: ...Probably... same as before.
CORSAIR: Got nothin' else.



CORSAIR: . . .



CORSAIR: This place was just s'posed to be a pit stop.
CORSAIR: Met Tim, knew I couldn't just up n' leave til y'all did.
CORSAIR: Wanna help... and I'm still curious.

 

She raises her scepter a few inches and taps it, showing it to you.

The colors catch your eye.

CORSAIR: It's reactin' still, to all five of you; some more than others, but all of ya just the same.
CORSAIR: Can't exactly put that mystery down, can I?







CORSAIR: ...Not like I had much of a plan, anyway.