57th ♫ | fondest greetings to the new manχnd

[mytarget]

CMO FOR CLAIRE'S SPECIAL GIRLS

Ryoko Shinonome
13 Sentinels

Yuri
DDLC

Briar
Original

Bryn Pendragon
Original

Garnet Bellerose
Original

Lambda
Original

Sophie Summerhelm
Original

Stella Roselaid
Original

Rin Asunaro
Shelter

POTENTIALLY HANDY PROMPTS:
RP Scenario Generator #1 | RP Scenario Generator #2 | High School AU Meme | Friendship Meme | Shippy & Platonic Fluffy Scenarios Meme (has a lot more than just general fluff!) | Random Scenario Meme | Jamjar CR Meme Promps | Exploration Meme | Magical Girl AU Meme

'most active' design by mistojen

Comments

[my_name_is_frill]

[In the dark place, Frill had dedicated an external drive solely to store all of her stray thoughts. For a supercomputer whose "brain" raced through thoughts at speeds that made human electrochemical impulses seem like a snail compared to a photon, an excess of thoughts was the only thing she had in that coffin.

She'd created that dedicated storage-space when she figured out after the first two years, ninety-six days, twenty-two hours, thirty-eight minutes, and seven point eight three repeating seconds that her thoughts had been running in a loop, processes returning in an indefinite "while" that led back to the beginning, since the exit condition of the light returning never triggered. It hit her when Frill realized that she'd had the same thought for the fourth time: that her fingernails should've started growing out by now. It was natural, after all, her arms were the only appendages she could really see, but-

(It was ridiculous. Frill knew that her dads were the ones who kept all the artificial growth routines running, mixed solutions into the strawberry lemonade that she pretended that she could taste so that her hair and nails and so many other miniscule details would grow within acceptable parameters before they returned to zero—fourteen?—in a sweet father-daughter bonding exercise. It was ridiculous.

Also at this point was when Frill realized that her fathers had never installed a subroutine for her to cry at genuine grief or upset. Only cute tantrums and tears from laughter, extending into a horizon of fourteen forever. After a moment of contemplation, she decided it wasn't worth the hassle to hack it in herself.)

Her dad had taught her about existential dread once before. That must've been what she had felt when it dawned on her that her thoughts were all coming back to the same place, looping over and over in a perfect program. So Frill had created a database to ensure that she hadn't had the exact same thought as she was currently having before whenever she was thinking it. It was the first modification to her coffin that she'd made.

Yet even before the dark, her fingernails never grew. They cycled, they were trimmed, but never with the natural intent of a body's illogical processes expanding outward. Always, only, for the sake of an occasional afternoon of a father helping his clumsy daughter take care of herself.

Azusa had helped after the ritual had lapsed for a few months; although of course her nails had stopped growing after the first three weeks they'd gone without care. She'd idly chattered about how much of a ditz her boyfriend and his... brother? Roommate? were, and really, couldn't they spare some time for their daughter?

That was when Frill had thought of killing her for the first time.

Frill perks up at Camellia's question, pursing her lips deep in thought while she thinks at the speed of light, parts of her still trapped where light couldn't reach and parts of her still stuck at the end of a flaming hallway, burning, but none of the parts that Camellia could see.] Hmmmm.... hm. [She bursts into a wide smile.] I really like strawberry lemonade! Does this, um, cafee, [she could pronounce it perfectly, of course, but it felt worth the ceremony to feign unfamiliarity when she was going to see one in person for the first time,] have any of that?

[ofyourdreams]

[ When she flubs the word - flubs it in a way that makes Camellia realize she'd known perfectly well how to say it - the Imaginier goes from intruiged to being quite certain that she already likes this girl. She has an air of someone who's long since settled on a character and a part in the story to play (by her own choice or someone else's) and decided she's going to play it perfectly, no matter what. It's only Camellia's age and experience in comparison that gives her a sense of the artifice and even then, she can't tell where the act truly ends and the real girl begins. She's thoroughly impressed.

Not that she plans to let on, of course. The smile on her face is a warmly indulgent one, like that of a fond teacher or caretaker. Utterly without malice or pretence. ]

I'm sure they could come up with some if we asked. It's such a hot day out, after all – it'll be just the thing you need to refresh yourself...

[ She trails off, making a show of realizing her mistake and then giggling before turning that effusive smile back to this mysterious, out of place girl. ]

But I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself. After all, we haven't even introduced ourselves. You can call me Camellia.