Sometimes life changes for no reason. The interesting thing is whether these changes are good or bad.
Does waking up in an unknown world with many people who develop a crush on you count as a nice thing?
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You’re sitting on a plain meadow with only a few daisies decorating the green grass. It is daytime, but the sky is covered in gray clouds, making this scene less pleasantly peaceful than it normally is.
It is not only that – this quietness feels so unnatural that it becomes uncanny. Perhaps that is the reason as to why paranoia is flaring up in your chest. There is no place for someone else to hide here, yet it feels as if you are watched from all sides. The grass, the flowers – all appear to have developed glowing green eyes. Still, nothing happens. Even though the dream has the atmosphere of a nightmare, it doesn’t turn into one.
Time, which feels like half an eternity, passes and this intense feeling of being watched goes away at some point as well. Now it is just you, the meadow and the depressing sky with no sign of waking up any time soon.
Meanwhile in the world of the waken.
Despite being made out of non-organic material, the Balladeer can feel your pulse through your skin. It is soft, rhythmic and gives you warmth. He finds it calming like a lullaby. “That’s right, just sleep on like that. Tomorrow is going to be a rough day, so it is better if you sleep through most of it. I have nothing to gain from letting you suffer from all of that – not this time, at least. Besides, one shock more or less isn’t going to change your opinion on me at this point anyways.” A deep sigh escapes his lips.
“Everything will be alright, it has to. Because if not, I will lose everything – my power, the gnosis, you… And we can’t have that, can’t we?” The last part comes out as a tired whisper. “I don’t want to go back to that pathetic old life and neither do you… We aren’t meant to live in the shadow of other people for all eternity.” Scaramouche stops caressing you. For a moment he remains still and simply observes your features. Your face is relaxed - not fearful or angered – just relaxed. An expression the puppet learned to appreciate only recently. His old self would have called him pathetic and weak for this, but at this moment he doesn’t care. He simply wants to savor this foreign yet warm feeling as much as he can. That’s why he leans forward, closing the distance between both of your lips. It is a gentle, almost ghost-like kiss, contrasting the short-tempered personality of the person across from you. If he had a heart, it would be beating rapidly right now. After a minute he separates himself from you. Not only that, he also uses his bigger mechanical hand to remove you from his original body and put you next to the chest of his mechanical shell. His fingers shield you from the light and all other outer influences. “Sleep well, my heart.”
A firm knock on the entrance door interrupts Scaramouche’s peaceful time with you. A certain mint-haired man enters the hall without permission. “I see that that fool was brought back.”
The air in the room immediately becomes tense from the electricity circulating through it. “You really have some nerves showing up here.”
Dottore isn’t fazed the slightest by the Balladeer’s threatening aura. “Well, I do have to see for myself how your pitiful dog is doing.”
“I am certain that they’re doing better without you, given that you previously tried to kill them.”
“I wouldn’t call it killing, it was more like a small... experiment. And if it ended up being successful, they would be alive and kicking. So what’s the problem? Aren’t you curious too how far they can be pushed?”
“Not if failure meant losing them. Therefore, don’t even think of trying this experiment of yours again.”
“You fell for that human quite hard, hm? Aren’t you afraid that they will pass away one day, like all humans do?”
“Not in one million years will I hand them over to you for you to expand their life expectancy like you did with your own. Who knows, maybe you will turn them into a disfigured monster as well.” Scaramouche’s voice is laced with pure hatred, signaling his opinion of the man in front of him.
“Alright, your loss. Just don’t come crying to me when they have taken their last breath.” Dottore takes a moment to observe you in your slumbering state, being held close to the gigantic puppet’s chest, right next to where a heart would be. “Still fascinating to see what kind of walking landmine that naïve abomination is. Cross them once and you are doomed for a lifetime and unable to move on.”
“Wouldn’t that include you as well?”
Dottore’s grin widens. “Aw, are you afraid they might chose me over you and betray you like all the other people in your life did?”
That sentence hit a nerve. For a short moment the Balladeer even forgets that he is holding you, but luckily he remembers your presence before crushing your frail body. “Why. On earth. Would they ever prefer to be with you, who tortured them almost to death?!”
“And why would they ever want to be with you then? As far as I know, you have abused them rather harshly as well, so what makes you better than me?” The Doctor paces to the left side of the platform like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. “I mean, at the very beginning you probably wanted to present their head to your creator, or am I wrong? Just out of pure spite you would have killed them since that god was looking for them. Given that context, how can you expect them to return your pathetic feelings?”
“Leave... now.” What was meant to sound like a threat comes out like a plea due to a slight shake in his voice.
Satisfied with the amount of distress he has caused the other, Dottore complies and leaves, humming happily to himself.
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Thinking 'what if...' is rarely a good thought when writing. Some of you would crucify me if I actually were to write out that thought.
