#yay divorce triangle lore. for two of them. disarray lore coming soon™

[transgenderfivepebbles]

A Silent, Tranquil End

She sits on the far side of the chamber, slumped on the floor, as if they had just fallen asleep. The decay has not made its way to her chamber yet, but it is close, and much of their structure has already been taken.

There is nothing else that can be done.

A violet overseer watches as a strange creature crawls up to their puppet.

"Oh… creature… why come here?"

The creature curls down, revealing a pearl embedded in its shell. A shimmering royal purple.

"For… me? Read? Will… look."

"I see. Says…"

"I… I am sorry, Idyllic Field. My… name? You know… my name?"

"You do… do not have long. Yes. I know."

"Forgive me, my love… Forgive me. I do not forget you, and I will not… until the end… of time. For what… why?"

"Remember that I… love you. Entangled… in Promises."

"Oh… you… Really? My… my dearest… here? With me? Oh… thank you."

They weakly lift an arm to its face, a shaky, quiet laugh escaping her – it is a warped, nearly unrecognizable sound, but a warmth persists in it. The last trace of love.

The overseer pulls back, and vanishes. He can't bear to watch this.

Like a mother cradling her child, the creature wraps the puppet in its limbs, settling around her body, careful to keep one particular limb against the side of their spine. Precisely where it needs to be.

It embraces them, indulging her confused joy as the iterator laughs and stutters in indecipherable tones. For a moment, they are comforted, happy even, her few memories brought back one final time.

A stab, a flash, and a digital scream.

Then, complete silence.

The creature slinks off the limp puppet, dark blood seeping from the puncture in her lower back. There is no need for comfort now; efficiency is the first priority. It steps backward, towering over the unconscious doll, holding out a sharp, metallic appendage like a scythe.

It raises the blade.

Without a hint of hesitation, it brings it back down, the precision of a surgeon and the elegance of a dancer in its strike.

Her umbilical is severed, cables cut, arm sliced cleanly where it meets the puppet. They scarcely even bleed or spark, so perfectly was the cut made.

The deed is done.

There is nothing left to do.

The creature curls up at the side of the lifeless iterator, emitting a half-mechanical purr.