Mouth Full of Cotton

Chapter Ten: Diagnosis [MARK/KIT WHITE]

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck. I cant believe Im doing this, I cant believe Im going to let him take me to the fucking MAKER of these things, to the, practically, GOD of these... plushies. I mean, Gabriel? He was one of the holy figures among many I looked up to, alongside Jesus. Now I'm going to meet one of the plushies versions of god. My body shook as Carkha led me out into the hallway, and I felt my legs threaten me with giving out with each step I took forward. I didn't want this at all, but I let myself be guided once more by the feline plush.

We stopped by an intricately carved door, patterns of buttons and lifted textures of thread lookin carvings into the wood catching my eyes, along with all the needle and string carvings, there were animals. Dogs, cats, birds, even things like snakes hidden within the details of the wood. My breathing stopped as I saw splatters of blood there as well, mixed with cotton. The sight disturbed me, and as I was led in by my.. Acquaintance, my eyes wandered around the relatively lit place.

There were many sheets of various fabrics, sorted by color, shade, and texture, some seemed to have the same visible texture, while others had an obvious seeable change in texture difference. Red silk, light gray satin... there were bundles of things like thin thread, yarn... and rope? I found the rope odd, as plushies can only get so big, right?

RIGHT...?

Accompanying everything else in the room, there was a large desk at the far wall, blood, fabric, and stuffing on the top of it. I shuddered, some blood looked... fresh. There was also a large chair, padded generously with pillows and blankets to provide comfort for the user... but it was huge. I really hope that this Gabriel Stuffiemaker person is... isn't that big... I hope this is just for show...

"Gabriel, dearr!" Carkha hummed, his ears shifting and turning as he listened out. His voice rang throughout the room an eerie echo making the vastness of the colossal chamber more apparent. My heart began to race as I waited for the other figure to appear, starting to get slightly dazed from the amount of fear and adrenaline coursing through me.

I hid behind Carkha and buried my face into him, crouching to hide myself further from eye's view. My eyes widened as I saw a towering figure rise from behind the table, masked with the faux face of an orange cat, eyes bright blue and moderately illuminating the fur of the covering.
They were stitched up in many ways, and the least I can say about the stitching is I knew why rope was needed now. They were in white robes, covering more of their figure.

A large cat tail made its way to curl around the large desk as the eyes on the mask moved to look down at me and my friend. "Oh my my! It has been quite some time, hasn't it? How has our little friend been?" They asked, a chuckle escaping them afterwards. I... can't move... why...?
"Oh he's been doing amazingly! I'm glad to be able to see you again too, Gabriel!" He exclaimed, giving a simpering smile to the figure. "Well anyways... check-check time?" With a head tilt, the maker gave a nod, grabbing Carkha in a large hand... god, its clawed, fuck. Run Carkha, just run-!

I watched, frozen in fear as the figure's eyes scanned and took in every detail of his body. Lifting arms, turning him, he did just about everything... and had the nerve to banter with him, smiling, laughing, joking while he did his observation. When finished, they lowered their face down to him, and Carkha gave him a hug. I couldn't tell if I was jealous, or extremely nervous... or both, but it made me feel a slew of things I can't begin to describe.

They grabbed Carkha once more and set him down, blue eyes settling on my trembling form, and every organ within me felt like shutting down from anxiety. "It's your turn, Kit. don't be shy now." Their voice was calm and quiet, but that just stirred me more, especially with those unblinking eyes... fucking hell get me out of here, I regret agreeing to come, so, so badly.

With my mind still teetering timid and 'I'm gonna die', I stepped forward, allowing them to pick me up. The sensation was weird, but their hand was warm, and comforting, easing my mind ever so slightly as I was set down on the table. I could see the blood more clearly, and stood with my paws close together so as to not step in it. I got squeamish at the sight, and fuck, the smell was even worse, rotting meat with an attempt to hide it with perfume and cleaning products. I gagged, holding my mouth as my eyes watered, looking up at the 'God'.

They leaned down, instructing me to lift my arms. As I did, they finally slowly blinked, looking me up and down before requesting me to lift up my pants legs. I did so, a small realization crossing my mind. I was fawning, a panic response to try and satisfy this... thing. I wanted things to go well, so I didn't want to rebel, and I never did. As they saw my furred legs were fine, they nodded and let me put them back down.

I was then instructed to move my sleeves.

My heart raced as I glanced back at Carkha briefly, but I still complied, slowly lifting up my sleeves for their eyes to gaze upon. I could see them visibly tense up, their masks ears pinning back as they saw the cuts and scars along my arms, some still bleeding. In silence, they grabbed bandages, precise finger movements wrapping the lengths around my forearms, stopping all blood from seeping into my hoodie. As they finished, they nodded once again, and I covered my arms once more.

"...You need to be careful, take better care of yourself." The soft voice spoke to me, continuing. "There's people out there who care about you, and your body, dear, it needs rest and care as much as the next person's. Doing these repairs as well, is more and more irksome without certain supplies, maybe you can get me some, as I am running low on them."

Find... supplies...?

I make an attempt at speech, however to little positive results. My throat gets an itch, and my lungs feel like they're being squeezed of oxygen. I let out a noise, however, yet it's just a very small murmur of 'car'. I look at the Stuffiemaker then point to Carkha, and they nod in response, taking the feline plush and setting him next to me. Taking my notepad and pencil, I wrote, "Carkha, do you think you can ask him about Sarah? I've been missing her since I wound up here, and as much as I try to brush off my worry, I can't help but feel the need to ask."

He stares at my handwriting for a long moment, feeling like eternity. I didn't know my handwriting was that bad. "Oh, oh! Yes! Gabriel," Carkha began, looking at the figure.

"Do you know uh... Sarah? Sarah White, perchance?" His trills came out thick, and I let my mind clear for a moment to take in and process them. They were admittedly nice sounds. "Ah, no, no I do not. I have seen missing posters for the girl, yet have not come in contact with her in person, or anywhere outside of the posters. Leo has not come back with anyone that would look related, either. It's very unfortunate." The way they spoke disgusted me, made me feel like they were feigning sadness, with that tone. Disgusting.

"Thank you, Me and Kit will be back with your supplies as soon as possible. The usual area, right?" The deity nodded. "Perfect. Thank you again."

The Maker... Well, Gabriel, set the two of us back down to ground level, which I would've thanked God for being back down, but... ehh, God wouldn't answer me anyways. They took out a needle, making me tense before they worked their way unsewing a plush door with speed and accuracy. I forgot I hated needles, honestly. As the door was pulled open, I saw nothing but faint silhouettes of trees, illuminated ever so slightly as the stench of what I would call blood and death itself wafted around the room.

I follow Carkha, clinging onto his arm as my heart pounded in my throat. Frankly, I felt like I could pass out from how bad the smell was, I might even throw up from it, but I pushed through, thinking more. How did Carkha not react to the smell? Was he covering his nose? Was he holding back as I was? Or... was he used to it...? Wait, I might sound crazy...

But... I thought I heard leaves rustle with footsteps.