lldcttore

[lldcttore]

@abysshearted replied:

it’s called murdering your underlings <3

" at least leave the corpses, they're excellent cadavers! "

[lldcttore]

you stinkie

" YOU sure are! "

[lldcttore]

" so glad i was MISSED. "

[lldcttore]

                                                                                selective indie dottore. follows from “ oryxaemaa ” 

[lldcttore]

" the innerworkings of it all is simply MAGNIFICENT. "

[lldcttore]

There’s no place like home

[lldcttore]

" it might be. "

As a scientist it was his responsibility to answer those odd questions that lingered at the back of the minds of all--even puppets. As the Doctor observed his subject ponder the question, the man walked over towards of his many cabinets, taking out a sharp set of pliers. He set the tool over his sink, washing it thoroughly as it to assure the already clean metal was glimmering and reflective. A single look over, and a dried towelette before he walked over to the puppet, moving over towards the cracked pieces of the Balladeer's knees. Shattered and in tatters.

" oh but you can die, can't you? "

An almost sickly sweet smile curled upwards on the corners of the Doctor's lips as he leaned over and stabbed the pliers closed into the shattered pieces. He dug in, with purpose yet a little too deep that might cause the puppet to convulse and twitch.

Strange how the god that designed this puppet still placed pain receptors all over the body. Or perhaps not so much--after all, he put pain into his own copies. What would cause a god to think differently?

" after all, you can be shattered to pieces, and even turned off, couldn't you? or would that simply be a temporary deactivation, i wonder? "

There was a moment where he kept the pliers in placed, before he squeezed at a piece and began to pull it out, slow and careful, atrociously painful.

" --and would you consider immortals to be alive? they are, after all, in capable of dying, by definition. "

Finally, he pulled out a chunk of something or another--damage that wasn't apart of his doll--and placed it on a table on the side. The Doctor let out a chuckle and placed the top of his hand below his chin, looking down at how much work he had to do before glancing over at the Balladeer with narrowed red irises.

" oh but how am i supposed to find you and fix you if i can't hear your screams of pain? you call for help? if i can't even track when you're in pain, hm? "

what  does  he  classify  as  alive?   ❝  ...  that's  an  ODD  question.  ❞  the  balladeer  mutters  —  and  in  that  moment,  a  rare  scrap  of  something  genuine  (  untainted  by  the  bitterness  that  seems  almost  synonymous  with  his  very  being  )  bleeds  into  his  voice.  the  reasoning  soon  becomes  clear  when  he  admits,  ❝  i've  been  wondering  that,  myself.  ❞   what  makes  a  living  thing  —  living?  kunikuzushi has  pondered  as  much  since  the  moment  he  possessed  the  capacity,  the  self-awareness  to  do  so.  something  that  breathes,  eats  and  sleeps?  something  with  a  consciousness?  something  with  a  beating  heart?  he's  struggled  with  the  idea  just  as  fiercely  as  he  has  the  subject  of  his  own  humanity  —  or  lack  thereof.  surely  he  possesses  some  functions  that  would  denote  the  presence  of  life ...  yet  at  the  same  time,  the  balladeer  lacks  just  as  many.

he  bleeds,  but  he  doesn't  sleep.  he  cries,  but  his  body  experiences  no  hunger  or  thirst.  he  feels  pain,  but  his  chest  is  hollow  and  still  —  an  alter  for  divinity,  denied  its  centerpiece.

❝  ...  ❞   he  opens  his  eyes.   ❝  something  that  can  die,  perhaps?  ❞   it's  funny,  then.  by  his  own  definition,  the  balladeer  wouldn't  qualify.  he's  long  since  realized  there  is  no  force  in  all  of  teyvat  that  can  truly  put  him  down  for  good.  (  in  body,  at  least.  )  he  isn't  sure  how  he  feels  about  that.  apathetic  —  but  disgusted?  emotions  are  so  contradictory;  yet  another  reason  to  think  them  inefficient.  ❝  in  order  to  be  truly  alive,  something  also  needs  to  be  able  to  be  killed.  even  the  gods  aren't  EXEMPT  from  dying.  ❞ what value would there even be in a life that can never be snuffed out?

in any case, the balladeer is quick to return to his usual snide demeanor. ❝  i  assumed  that  was  YOUR  JOB.  ❞

@lldcttore

[lldcttore]

i suppose that makes me IT.

no, tagging represents that i am fast enough to win the game.

[lldcttore]

@firezuhur replied:

it was in my house and i licked it so it's mine now

" oh does LICKING represent OWNERSHIP, now?~ i prefer TAGGING. "

[lldcttore]

oh you could have just ASKED.

[lldcttore]

He's not INCAPABLE of COMPASSION.

[lldcttore]

Dottore was quiet, to the point of it seeming the man didn't even breathe...perhaps he didn't, if this was a segment--of which it WASN'T--he wouldn't have the necessity of breathing. How curious it was, to get the news of the WITCH'S death, to mourn, to cry, to grief, and to eventually MOVE ON. Dottore's segments did not waste their breath to mourn it, aside from the young who might have KNOWN her in their memories. The original stood, his gaze surprisingly soft as he scanned Rosaura up and down.

" no need to APOLOGIZE for GRIEVING. "

It was something Dottore was used to observing by now, no less by those closer to Signora--of which Dottore would consider himself an interesting spot.

" some simply need LONGER to grieve than others, you are HARDLY slowing down this system. "

NONVERBAL. ↬ @lldcttore

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

AND HE FINDS ROSAURA AMIDST THE BITTER COLD. tall spears of ice had pierced the catacomb of the now long gone SIGNORA, barring the passage to both pious and treasure hunters. MOURNERS AND SPITEFULS CONDEMNED OUTSIDE, for the tsaritza, in all of her kindness and benevolence, begged for solitary grief.

capitano's daughter turns, hearing shifts in the snowstorm. PRISTINE TEARS fall upon her delicate skin, her eyes watery as depths as they look at the doctor.

she turns, wiping herself with the tip of a finger, silently so. as much as it came easy for her to do so, SHE DISLIKED TO BE SEEN CRYING.

❝ doctor ... apologies. ❞ that man. she doesn't know him too much. the other harbringers served as poor company when it came to most of them, but him ... HE WAS THE QUIET SORT. solitary, discreet. ❝ i imagine i am slowing down everyone else, however ... ❞

rosaura turns to face the ice columns once more. so high, she cannot see the building anymore. ❝ i simply wanted ... to PAY MY RESPECTS a while longer ... ❞

[lldcttore]

Whenever i see like more than a few people follow in a short period of time im like JSJSJSNS welcome to 10/10 UNFILTERED terrible science man content!!! enjoy your stay and don't get vivisectioned!!!

[lldcttore]

" what subjects never understand, is that once they are tagged, they can never truly be free. "

[lldcttore]

BY THE BY, if anyone that writes Sucrose WANTS to do the father daughter dynamic, feel free to lmk <3 and we can totally plot that shit out. it's literally my favourite.

[lldcttore]

" are you ABSOLUTE? "

[lldcttore]

@erabundus replied:

"i don't care what wording you use. i'm not taking part in any of this."

" oh but WHY not? i believe you're ALREADY participating, you just haven't noticed. as a BIRD doesn't notice the TAG around it's ANKLE. "