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[personal profile] form_mage
theme: a mechanical doll that falls to pieces every night
characters: the bryas

Finally--finally--things were looking up. Brya Kalier had been a disembodied voice no one else could hear, that Brya Shi couldn't actually speak to unless no one else was around; Myrrhanius, though, could flip the pages of books, walk around the house, ask questions of Aivlen and Veylital that they might actually answer.

If nothing else, it saved time.

Brya had just started to make plans for Myrrhanius--things he could do while Brya slept--when the small black body seized, its eyes bright, and collapsed in a heap.

Halfway through a sentence, Brya stood there with his mouth open and hands in the air. "...Myrrh?"

The doll didn't move.

"Myrrhanius?" He leaned in closer. The blue eyes were dull, now. "...Brya?"

Plans and pages flew from his mind. He'd broken it. He'd messed something up. He'd killed--did it count as killing, when Brya Kalier was already dead? He swallowed hard, and poked at the curled small hands. Still no response.

"...All right, I'll bite. Why are you sitting in the hall, staring at a doll."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Aivlen. "I--I think I killed him."

"Please tell me if you're about to cry, so I can leave."

"I'm not--" He clenched his fists. "Don't you even care? He's a part of this house--he's as much a part as you or Vey."

Aivlen snorted. "Thank you for comparing me to a doll you made. Really, it's flattering. How'd you kill it?"

"I don't know," Brya snarled. He felt more than heard Aivlen's sigh, and tried not to wince as the sandangel crouched down beside him.

"Looks fine to me."

"He's not moving and he won't wake up."

"It's night," said Aivlen, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. As if Brya had somehow missed the darkness outside the windows. Then Aivlen went on, in a slow, patronizing tone, "They stop moving when it's dark. Light outside, light in the eyes."

"...Wait. So he's...not dead."

The sandangel's wings rustled above them as he shrugged. "Could be. Won't know 'til morning. That's how dolls work--at least these ones. They fall to pieces when the sun goes down."

Brya touched Myrrh's still hand again. Had it been a gradual thing and he just hadn't noticed? What did it feel like, when the sun swung down? Sudden fall, or a slow collapse, starting in your chest and branching out...

"I can hear your brain struggling to form a thought."

"Shut up, Aivlen," said Brya, without heat. "And help me move him."

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September 2010

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