[ there has always been a puppet master in nazuna's doll dreams--there's a reason that he keeps a wide berth from anything doll related, has always hated them--but this is the first time he's ever had a face. and not only is it a person, this time, but he's recognizable. it's shu.
for the first brief moment, he thought shu might be there to help. even in his dreams, he felt immediately relieved, but becomes obvious right away that this puppet master is no less cruel than the one he usually sees. this is worse.
the texture of his gloves on his face is unfamiliar, the soft crush of the fabric an unusual sensation that feels heightened at his lack of his voice, his senses. nothing hurts--it's rather the opposite, a full body numbness that feels like it's taken over for him. he's not just dressed as a doll, he's becoming one, a plaything for shu to do whatever he pleases with.
he doesn't flinch when his head snaps back--it doesn't hurt, at least not physically--and his hair bounces back when he moves, a golden halo around his face as he comes up to look at shu. his eyes are still scared, the brightest thing about him, perhaps the only sign of his personality still present. inside, he's practically banging around in his consciousness, screaming, shu, please, stop, shu, shu, but he doesn't get much of a choice.
look how happy he looks.
beautiful. he says. that pleases me. shu's happy.
even if nazuna had a choice, he'd be letting shu move his arms. hands out in front of him just a little, a space that shu could step into if he wanted to, he's formed into a mannequin's hold, and there's not another distressed noise, because whatever he wants to say won't move past his sewn shut mouth, the pale pink paint on his lips covering neat, perfect little holes, as if that was where the thread belonged all along.
finally, he hums again, just a little noise. less distressed. he's trying to say something, but what choice does he have? what would he even tell shu, who is looking at him as if he's made of gold?
please don't hurt me. (maybe in a dream, he would.) ]
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for the first brief moment, he thought shu might be there to help. even in his dreams, he felt immediately relieved, but becomes obvious right away that this puppet master is no less cruel than the one he usually sees. this is worse.
the texture of his gloves on his face is unfamiliar, the soft crush of the fabric an unusual sensation that feels heightened at his lack of his voice, his senses. nothing hurts--it's rather the opposite, a full body numbness that feels like it's taken over for him. he's not just dressed as a doll, he's becoming one, a plaything for shu to do whatever he pleases with.
he doesn't flinch when his head snaps back--it doesn't hurt, at least not physically--and his hair bounces back when he moves, a golden halo around his face as he comes up to look at shu. his eyes are still scared, the brightest thing about him, perhaps the only sign of his personality still present. inside, he's practically banging around in his consciousness, screaming, shu, please, stop, shu, shu, but he doesn't get much of a choice.
look how happy he looks.
beautiful. he says. that pleases me. shu's happy.
even if nazuna had a choice, he'd be letting shu move his arms. hands out in front of him just a little, a space that shu could step into if he wanted to, he's formed into a mannequin's hold, and there's not another distressed noise, because whatever he wants to say won't move past his sewn shut mouth, the pale pink paint on his lips covering neat, perfect little holes, as if that was where the thread belonged all along.
finally, he hums again, just a little noise. less distressed. he's trying to say something, but what choice does he have? what would he even tell shu, who is looking at him as if he's made of gold?
please don't hurt me. (maybe in a dream, he would.) ]