[PCA] UNIVERSAL CONSTANTS

[skinstealer]

MAES: ...It's strange, getting used to navigating somewhere that isn't the lab.

 

Maes cradles Kettle as she walks through the castle hall, using her tail to help count doorways. The memorization had taken some time, and she still didn't have it down yet...

MAES: ...but it helps to have such a useful aide.
MAES: So portable.

 

The proxy makes a playful little chitter at her, delighted to be spoiled. She's surprisingly docile being carried around, unlike her usual day to day- and she was able to course correct if needed, allowing the karacel free agency to move while signaling for her to turn, stop, etcetera...

MAES: Mhm...you make me feel very safe.
MAES: It's...
MAES: Hm. 

 

She turns into the library, a smile crossing her face as she feels the pillar by the door- satisfied with her successful identification of its location.

MAES: It just feels silly, is all.

 

The proxy makes a curious little chirp in response, her voice coming through- like a special whisper, just for Maes.


Share anyway.


The smell of old books is one Maes has come to love, letting it wash over her as she steps inside. It combines beautifully with the sea breeze, tension leaving her body with every step.

MAES: ...I'm self conscious, Kettle.
MAES: You know this.

 

She settles into her favorite library chair, having developed preferences throughout the many pseudo-weeks spent in the pocket. This one sags just right, and cradles her almost as nicely as Rosca's throne does...


The proxy immediately takes the opportunity to sit right in her lap and curl up around her, trapping her under a pile of fabric and proxy.

....She isn't going to let the conversation drop.

MAES: Evil little thing.

 

Yeah, by like a whole foot too


The proxy makes a little electronic cackle before burying her face into the cat's neck. There's an imitation of a purr rumbling through her throat, the vibration drawing Maes' own out in turn.


It's easy to relax into the proxy's touch, Maes nuzzling back and sighing.

MAES: You always know how to make me feel special...trying to lure it out of me...
MAES: It's-
MAES: Well
MAES: It is difficult to talk about, what in particular helps me with you specifically-

 

The proxy leads one of Maes' hands toward the seams on her body, a little chitter for emphasis.


I've had a hunch


The karacel blushes black, allowing herself to feel the crease.

A simple divot, but....

MAES: ...yes.
MAES: I- I don't know what to make of it.

 

The proxy presses directly into her hand, emphasizing it against her fingers.

Maes puffs up, her fur going everywhere.

MAES: You and Rosca tempting me equally...I...hgh.
MAES: It's not even that out of the ordinary, enjoying fabric, seams, artificial materials- god knows constructs have had that for millennia, and as you can imagine, I'm not going to judge anyone for that preference, even myself.
MAES: It's....the manner of it...

 

Kettle tilts her head curiously with a chirp.


Explain?


She presses her face against Kettle's, inhaling deep.

MAES: Loving a plush being as...a person, is, very relatable...but to love them as an object- to see you, as-

 

A swallow.

MAES: M-more of a security item at times than a partner-

 

The proxy latches onto one of her hands and gives her a affirming squeeze- getting an even harder one back.

MAES: ...and yet, loved just as strongly.
MAES: Not as if you aren't something, someone, worth loving- but like my wires are crossed.

 

Kettle lines their muzzles up, just barely touching- letting Maes still speak.

MAES: Like I would love you just as much if you couldn't move, speak, think, any of it...

 

With an evil giggle-

Kettle goes limp.




[id: kettle gone limp in maes' arms, looking very sneaky, mischievous, and cute about it.]


...playing along as a ragdoll.

MAES: ...That's cheating.

 

The proxy lets out another giggle, clearly pleased with herself.


She can't help but laugh in turn, petting the doll's head.

MAES: And...in some ways...

 

Pausing, giving her a nervous pat and a rub behind her ear.

MAES: I...relate, I think.
MAES: There are- there's days where I can't speak, either because of being sick, being silenced, or days where walking itself hurts with every step-
MAES: ...and when my head is so full of noise and hate that I can't get a single thought in order.
MAES: But I have to.
MAES: I'm not- I'm barely allowed to receive help, let alone ask for it in the first place.
MAES: The only reason I can even get funding for my assistive tech is through marketing it as some sort of cool, awesome, futuristic science, and-

 

She huffs.

MAES: I hate it.
MAES: I hate existing as some, some kind of performer.
MAES: Like go on, Maes!
MAES: You can get all of the money in the world for you, your family, to be able to "catch up", but only if you make a show of it!
MAES: Satisfy the masses, not the actual people who need help!
MAES: ...........And I just want to stop, some days. I want to let myself lay there, not having to speak, or think, or be any of that.
MAES: To stop being what people consider a "normal" person.
MAES: I'm already derided as one as it is.
MAES: But to be, contextualized as something of my choice-
MAES: I could be an object.
MAES: But-
MAES: A loved one.

 

The proxy ponders for a moment, quiet-


-before flipping their situations,


Putting Maes in the position of "doll."

MAES: ...h-hey-!

 

Kettle gives her a pat on the head reassuringly, no judgment to it.

MAES: ....You're really okay with it?

 

She can hear the proxy scrambling, feeling around for her and Broth's tablet.

KETTLE: Yes.
MAES: ...I can just b-be, a- you know-

 

Another little press of the tablet.

KETTLE: Toy?
MAES: mhm...
KETTLE: Yes.
KETTLE: I'll help.
MAES: Thank you...

 

She takes a deep breath, letting herself relax.


Let it out. Just. No more. No more- anything.
No more back pain. No more sore legs. No more headaches or nausea.


The proxy strokes her hair, humming. At this point, their communication had started to go both ways- startling at first, but Maes was slowly growing accustomed to letting the proxy listen in.

KETTLE: Good.

 

I don't have to worry.

KETTLE: Toy.

 

The proxy feels up a scar under her clothes as if it were a seam- running her fingers along the tissue there just as Maes had her own.


Hh-
That's- I can't have those like you-


Her face grows flushed, even while playing ragdoll.


A tap of the tablet.

KETTLE: Why?

 

Those aren't- they're not good-


The proxy takes a moment to type out a text to speech message.

KETTLE: In this castle they can be anything.

 

....
B-but, if they're- if they're stitches, they're- so crooked-


The proxy proceeds to shove her muzzle into Maes' hand, a crude diagonal stitch across the snout.


...That's- different-

KETTLE: No. 

 

Why?

KETTLE: Mine is a scar.

 

...You never told me.


The proxy shrugs.


....
We...could share with each other. Just us.

KETTLE: Yes.

 

Who first?

KETTLE: Me.

 

A pause, skimming through the buttons before making her strings.

KETTLE: Drank blood to live.
KETTLE: Head was hurt. Almost died.
KETTLE: Charon was okay.
KETTLE: Rooks not okay.
KETTLE: Died. Scared.
KETTLE: Do not want to die again.

 

....you can squeeze me, if you like...


Kettle does so, cartoon squeak noise and all.
Maes can't keep from letting a laugh escape, breaking character for a moment.


Am I d-doing good?

KETTLE: Yes.

 

This is...all very new, so...


Another squeeze to reassure her, massaging any sore spots as she goes.


...I did promise you my side of it.
C-can- can you hold me again? Like a toy.


The proxy scoops her up, holding her against her chest.


...You...already saw that some of them- the first time I came here.
I have problems with.
With self injury.


It takes Kettle a moment to adjust the tablet, managing to get a better position for her to type and snuggle all at once.

KETTLE: Why hurt yourself?

 

When my mother died, her strict hand vanished.
It had made me...disciplined.
....I needed some sense of stability.
Some kind of guidance.
So...when I fuck up, I- I need to remind myself-


The proxy hugs the cat tight, no words needed.
She lets herself be squished, not providing any resistance at all.


It feels like it's all I know.
Even now, she still has her hands around my neck.


Kettle immediately buries her face between the cat's neck and shoulder.


Safe.


..... Even with her nuzzle in return, something feels...off about the cat's non-reaction.


Kettle makes a curious chirp, shifting back to mental speak.


Are you okay?


Maes verbalizes in turn- flowing between both communication methods easier than she'd expect.

MAES: Y-yeah, yes, I'm-
MAES: I'm good.

 

The proxy presses snouts together again, unconvinced.

MAES: Kettle....I...
MAES: ....I just wish I could promise you that.

Safe. Here.

MAES: ...here.
MAES: Yes.
MAES: I...can be safe here.
MAES: ........
MAES: As a toy.

 

Kettle gives the cat another little nuzzle before returning to feeling underneath their clothes, being particularly gentle with the scars.


Hh....
M-maybe it's- just a bit of patching up, right?
Like your own repair...


The proxy gives her a affirming little chitter.


Body has to heal, fabric has to be stitched...


She leans into the proxy's neck, letting herself go limp again.


I can work with that.