× ad Infinitum.

@stupid san [] good stuff! no rush :D

@seonghwa // skskkdj i have three exams coming up this week, so probably not. maybe i can try to write a reply next weekend

@stupid san [] not to be pushy sdfghujk but, any chance of a reply soon-ish? not deleting this but I've been itching to do something with it fghjk like I wanna write something hehehehe

@stupid san Seven was dimly aware of the heavy weight settling in behind him, exhaling softly as he settled into the warmth surrounding him. Warmth like this was rare and he craved every bit of it.

It would be the best nights sleep Seven had had in a long while.

***

The first time Seven felt himself surface from his sleep was when he felt movement behind him. Heat that he’d grown quickly accustomed too was gone, something he protested quietly as he dragged a pillow closer to his body as a substitute. He didn’t want to wake up, so he let his body relax and sink into darkness for a little while longer.

***

What was that?

Something was touching his ear. Something annoying and ticklish, was master feeling playful that morning? The touch disappeared as he twitched away, stretching against scratchy sheets. Seven blinked away slowly, a split-second flash of confusion when he woke up to dark grey metal rather than the titanium white of his quarters before he remembered where he was.

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed in that moment, Seven was far too comfortable to think about anything other than burrowing himself further into these sheets; as terrible quality as they were.

There was food next to the bed, Seven saw when he rolled over. Had Six made this for him..? Seven pushed himself up slowly, legs curling underneath him as he surveyed the plate of strange foods in front of him. This was a rare treat. His master usually kept him on either liquid or needles filled with essential nutrients.

Seven didn’t know how he felt but he knew that he had to fight to stop himself from smiling.

The last time Seven had physical food.. It must have been years ago now, perhaps when he had visited Altea, their princess had offered him a Juniberry tart; he remembered it’d been surprisingly tangy. This food he’d never seen before in his life. The red streaks and brown things were clearly some kind of meat, the round yellows looked almost like a cake of some kind. He had no idea what to make of the white and yellow mess but it all smelt amazing. Especially the cakes, they smelt sweet and it triggered something within him. He pulled apart the cake slowly, eating small piece of fluffy dough at a time. It was possibly the nicest thing Seven had ever had.

Even though he felt an animalistic desire to tear into the food, Seven didn’t want to chance Six walking in on him stuffing his face like a heathen so he continued to eat everything bit by bit; the white and yellow goo proved to be the trickiest, the yellow slime in particularly ended up all over his hands. What was he supposed to do.. “…” Seven shuddered and his hands clean, wiping them dry on the bed. Six would never have to know.

Out of them all, the cakes and the streaky meat were his favourites though he wasn’t entirely sure if the meat would agree with him in a few hours.

Seven reluctantly stood up from the bed, the bedroom door opening with a hiss as he left the room. It was much colder, he noted, out here in the cockpit than in there. He was half tempted to retreat back into the room but that would be weak of him. Six was sitting in the captains chair. And Seven barely spared a glance at the Bhii’ast as he placed his plate onto the bench in the kitchen; there didn’t seem to be anything to clean it with, perhaps Six would be patient enough to do it for him.

He turned to face Six, chewing on his lip. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to the man but he had no idea how far off they were from their destination. Seven approached six, his hand twitching to tap the Bhii’ast on the shoulder.

Seven hesitated for a second, dropping his arm by his side instead.

“How far until Nephente?”

@seonghwa (Don’t worry, hon, it was beautiful uwu)

Of course Seven refused.

San knew he would, but… there was always still a little hope left in his heart that maybe. He wouldn’t fight, he couldn’t. He was too tired, too sad. As adamant of a man as he was, this… seemed frivolous to try and tell him right here, right now. He’d already said all he could say, anyways, it would be like they were running in circles if he continued to persist. Besides, he’d notice his handprint worked later.

The signals Seven was giving off were mixed. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or not. He wanted to. Wanted to hold Seven in his arms. Maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn’t Seonghwa. Maybe he was made in Seonghwa’s image, but the real Seonghwa /had/ died. Maybe it /would/ be therapeutic to hold someone –– something –– that was even /close/ to Seonghwa.



But… it /had/ to be Seonghwa. There was no way it wasn’t. His handprint worked. Or maybe… it was Seonghwa’s body but a new brain. But, the nightmares… If he had been made, he wouldn’t have those nightmares. And the Dollmaker wouldn’t have blocked out the nightmare’s face. Or… maybe that was just a tactic to keep Seonghwa with them. Give the poor thing something that the Dollmaker can hold above him, be the /one thing/ that can soothe it. Because they created it…



San’s head spun and spun, wracking his brain for the answer, the right decision, what to accept, what to cope with or not cope with. Should he sleep in the chair for the night? Or should he join Seven? San growled and scratched his face, whipping out of the chair and pressing his hand against the scanner and walking into the room. Seven was already fast asleep, clutching the sheets where San would sleep. It eased his mind for the time being. He had to at least get through this night and one more and then he could focus on the mission they had been sent on and not keeping the two entertained.

San slowly slipped into bed after lifting Seong –– Seven’s arms. He curled up to the other’s almost-six-foot tall frame from behind and held him close by the waist before caging the other in: one arm staying around his waist, hand’s fingers laced with the other’s, and the other crossing up his torso to hug it. And one leg slung over top of the other. Seven smelled so nice, so familiar… and he was still so warm. It felt nice, regardless of whose Seonghwa it was. The covers added extra warmth, and along with their two scents mixing together, San couldn’t help but grumble, nuzzle into the smaller man’s neck, and drift off to sleep.



–– time skip, next morning ––

San woke up early, he always did. Restlessness, sometimes, but usually just because he needed to make sure things were sailing smoothly. Though, that contributed to the restlessness. But waking up next to Seven made it less… unbearable. Made him less groggy. He, without thinking, leaned down and kissed Seven’s shoulder, running a hand through his hair before slipping out of bed to clean the sticky spot that Seven had stepped in before as well as general cleaning. There was a pop-up kitchen that came out of the wall nearby, close to the cargo hold.

He said what he planned to make, which was just a normal breakfast from earth: eggs, meat (bacon and sausage), and hashbrowns. Pancakes too. He couldn’t remember if Seonghwa liked it, and had no idea if Seven liked it, but from his time on earth, San had come to love it. So he was going to make it for the both of them. Well –– he was going to have the /ship/ cook it for them. San made his way back to the bedroom to take another shower, then after only slightly tousling his hair to be damp, he dressed back up in the same pajamas.



In the moments before Seven woke up, San knelt by the foot of the bed, gently carding his fingers through those pretty blonde tresses, ghosting over the points of his elf ears. But once he felt Seven stir, San glided out of the room to grab a plate for him, leaving it on the end table with one final caress over his scalp. Then he went back out, grabbed his own plate, and sat down in the chair, tapping the of the fork against the heart in the left arm of the chair in between big bites of breakfast.

@stupid san [] 1.) semi-ignore the decade bit in para 2, it’s a brain-washing thing that i’m using 2.) a touch short rip and 3.) i hope its alright, it was harder than i expected to make Hwa aggressively passive without sounding like an idiot and jumping from one extreme to the other lmao

“you silly little creature..”

Seven felt hot, his cheeks turning pink from the sudden flash of anger he felt. Six was still trying to convince him of this stupid little lie!? How gullible did his counterpart think he was?

He drew his hands back, unsure of what to say, what to yell, scream, as he searched Six(no, San) for any hint of humour or mirth in his handsome face but he found none. Nothing but genuine sincerity and heartbreak in the single flesh and blood eye Six still sported. Why did the Bhii’ast continue to insist on his origins? Dollmaker had made it clear to Seven what he was; a broken doll repaired to and beyond perfection. And while it was impossible to track time on his masters ship, Seven knew that he’d been with Dollmaker for close to a decade, well over the year

Seven.. Perhaps Seven resembled who Six— /San/ was talking about. Perhaps this was a case of mistaken identity and wanting to project trauma on the closest thing; in this case, it was Seven. That made.. sort of sense, enough for Seven for that moment who didn’t want to even consider anything else.

At least that was a narrative he was willing to accept.

“That human was not me. It couldn’t be. I’m not a human, I’m a doll.”

His fists unfurled from the tight balls they’d formed, reaching up to tap his face “If that was me, don’t you think I would have seen my own features?”

“My master told me who I am and that is all I need to know.” Lies. There was a lot more that Seven needed to know. He talked a big game of knowing who he was but honestly, he didn’t even have a clue how he ended up on his masters ship; the only thing that Dollmaker would tell was that he was ‘rescued’. It wasn’t much but it was good enough for Seven for now.

Speaking of now, Seven still desired sleep and he still craved the Bhii’asts company no matter idiotic the other man was.

“But since you’re so adamant on trying to convince me I’m supposedly somebody you once knew and I won’t be able to sleep alone tonight, I’ll indulge your little fantasy.” Seven slipped out of the Bhii’asts lap, his arm stretching out to continue to hold Si— San, Sans fingers in his own. He found he was reluctant to let go, grimacing for a split second before drawing his hand away. “As much as I dislike you, I hope you come with me. I quite enjoy your presence when you aren’t threatening to slice my chest open.”

Seven trailed off to the door that he’d seen San storm through earlier, his instinctively coming up to press against an almost indistinguishable black tile. The door slid open to reveal the Bhii’asts room; it smelt so.. nice. Seven stepped into the room, surprisingly clean compared to the cockpit but not featuring much other than the basics. It was vastly different to his own sleek and very white bedroom.

He walked over to the bed as the door slid closed behind, sitting on the firm mattress. Seven inhaled sharply, draping himself over the sheets and burying his nose into the pillow. These were so much warmer than his own, and they’d only get warmer if San decided to join him; already he could drowsiness setting in, his eyes already closing.

In his half asleep state, Seven reached out to the empty half of the bed beside him, feeling more at ease in this bed than he had ever felt in his short life.

It wasn’t until much later that it would occur to Seven that the door had responded to his handprint.

@seonghwa "San"

He never thought hearing his own name said in such a tone –– one that both seemed to find the word familiar, yet at the same time, completely foreign –– would ever. /Ever/. Make him cry so openly. He couldn't help the tears that streamed down his face as he looked the other man in the eyes. And then he said what that name meant to him. It made more tears pour down his cheek.

"Seven..." San swallowed. "You... trust me, as Six, don't you? To tell you what you're experiencing as one of Dollmaker's best?" he asked, but he didn't really wait for an answer. "You... you're reliving your own surgery... That's you, Seven. That's what you looked like when they took you. You had pretty black hair, beautiful, chocolate brown eyes..." San's voice, for the first time around Seven, was soft, and it even trembled. "You don't know why you feel his feelings because your memory was wiped. I... I used to have the same dreams, but I remembered who I was, because they didn't wipe me."

San paused and he looked over Seven's features. "Do you remember what I said earlier about us? I'm not lying to you. The night they took you, you screamed and you cried and you begged to be let go. You yelled and cried and screamed for San, because that was your lover. That's why it feels comforting, sad, nostalgic. That's why," his voice cracked, "that's why you miss him. Because you /have/ met him before. He came to your planet, the both of you fell in love, took you to watch the stars, and then... he lost you," he looked at the stars Seven was drawing on his arm. "Seven..." he sighed. He knew what he was about to reveal would probably piss the other off to no end, so he held the other tighter, and he moved his free hand to wake the ship's sleeping operating system.

A female voice echoed through the cockpit as the lights slowly :

"Hello, captain San, what do you require?"

San answered, "Nothing, it was an accident, go back to sleep," to which the ship wordlessly answered by shutting the lights off again. He took a moment to swallow, then he spoke again. "You miss /me/, Seven. And I've missed you for... a year or so, I think it's been. I've been numb to time since I lost you," he sighed, holding Seven's hands tighter. "You were the only person I ever loved, and the only companion I ever had. Nothing has felt whole ever since you got taken. The stars don't make me feel the same, sleeping is so much harder, this ship feels so empty without you, I feel like I can't go on without you. It feels like half of my heart is gone. Every single day I can only feel half of it beating."

The nearly eight foot tall beast still managed to tremble a little. He looked over Seven's features, truly taking in all of them, everything Dollmaker had changed. A hand trailed through his new blonde hair, over his elvish ears, over his scarily smooth skin, a thumb running under one of his eyes. They weren't the same color. But it was still the man he'd fallen in love with. The man he was still in love with. The man he'd been mourning for god knows how long.

Still his Seonghwa.

"You can keep me company if you would like, I wouldn't mind at all, I don't like to be alone either. But I can understand if you need to be alone after this..." San sniffed a bit and wiped his eye. For once, his cybernetic replacement wasn't red, it was blue, and for once, he'd given Seven a choice

@stupid san “I—“

Trying to remember his dream did nothing but cause a shrill ringing in his ears. Seven backed off immediately; the mental warning something that his Master had implemented in him years ago.

Anytime he did something that his subconscious knew Dollmaker wouldn’t like, it’d revolt against him to get him to stop and this dream? This dream was not for him.”I don’t, don’t know.” Seven finally settled on, searching Sixs face for something, anything, he didn’t know.

“His face is blank.. As if he didn’t have any features.” Seven lied. It wasn’t just blank, it was nothing. A white spot in his memory. “But he had black hair, a bit shorter than mine. The odd part was that I could feel what he felt.” Seven spoke softly, almost as if he were afraid that somebody would overhear him and he’d get in trouble. Maybe he was afraid, Seven wasn’t sure.

But then again, he wasn’t sure of anything right now.

“He was terrified, they all are during their first surgery but this felt more real” Seven frowned “He wanted it to stop, he wanted to die but Master wouldn’t let him. It was horrible” A chill ran down his spine; desiring death was a cold, cold feeling, not one he wanted to feel ever again. “For once, I think.. I think I felt pity for the poor human, I didn’t want him to survive the surgery. Which is ridiculous because being a slave to master is the greatest thing I could ask for.”

Six’ lack of focus did not bother Seven, too caught up with his own racing thoughts.

“.. San.” Seven sighed softly, gripping Sixs hand gently and guiding it to his face. He found comfort in rubbing his cheek against the dorsal of the Bhii’asts hand, lacing his much smaller fingers through the others. He smiled suddenly, feeling a strange type of sadness wash over him; he was aching but he was warm inside. “It makes me sad. That name. But it also comforting, like saying it makes me nostalgic.. San. I don’t know who they are but I think I miss them. Quite a lot.”

“It’s also comforting..” Seven paused, huffing a laugh a moment later at how ridiculous he sounded.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes furrowing just a touch “Missing somebody you’ve never met? Perhaps that’s why master wipes me every time I dream, they always like to tease me about being too emotional for their liking.” Seven swallowed the lump in his throat, he could feel his subconscious struggling to make him shut up; to not talk badly about the master whom he adored. He felt sick again. Absently, his free hand came up to rub tiny stars on Six wrist.

“They make it seem not so serious but I know better. I can feel their anger through our bond.”

His movements paused for a split second before he resumed stroking the other mans hand. Everything from squeezing Six hand in his own to the furry tail wrapped around his waist, all of that tactile comfort did wonders to clear the upset fog from his mind.

“Perhaps this is a memory stolen from you?” Instantly Seven knew that it was a stupid idea; Dollmaker didn’t even let Seven see his own memories, why would he allow his dumb doll into the minds of others? “No, that’s silly. Our Master wouldn’t do that.”

Seven dropped their hands into his lap, looking down at their intertwined fingers. They looked nice together; his surgically enhanced smooth white to Sixs lightly browned calloused skin. He rather liked how Six engulfed his hand like it was nothing.

“Regardless, I— I don’t think I can sleep. Not alone. Can I, um, can I keep you company? For a little while?"

@seonghwa (it's okay! if we ever feel like we have to mod a little again, though, i think neither of us mind? but we can always just ask)

There was a bubble in San's throat. Not of air, maybe of choked up tears, but definitely it was of three words. The three words he hadn't been able to say in a handful of years to the very man in his arms. That he hadn't uttered to him, or to anyone, nor had he /heard/ from anyone else.

'I love you' was just rolling and bubbling and churning in San's chest and his throat. He wanted to say it. So ing badly. But this wasn't Seonghwa, this was Seven, and Seven and him had just fought. Seven would be disgusted, would toss him away, wouldn't remember. He'd never remember again. Or... would he?

"I... I don't even know who he was," Seven had said. Mentioned projects, that he remembered all of them except for this one particular one. San wasn't always too smart when it came to guessing, but this he could guess, especially based on having had his own share of augmentation nightmares over those few years. He'd been awake during his, and he'd not had his memory wiped. So he was so painfully aware that he'd been watching himself get torn apart, screaming for his mother, his father, his family, in those nightmares. But Seven's memory /had/ been wiped, so it made sense why he couldn't put his finger on it.

With every dry heave of just saliva, San didn't mind the mess, nor did he mind gently wiping the other's mouth with one thumb. Everything Seven went through, San felt his heart wanting to rip out of his chest. He knew it , but he wished the poor doll in his arms could just throw up like a normal person. He seemed to finish his version of vomiting, and San's eyes met the other's for just a brief second before he finally hugged him. It felt normal –– like Seonghwa would hug him. Every part of his body pressed to San's, seeking warmth and comfort. The familiarity made San shake for just a moment as his arms and tail rewrapped around the other.

A series of patterned growls and purrs left him. It was "I love you" in his own language, from Na'raka. He had to get it out, and he was sure Seven wouldn't remember the language. San let them sit in silence, and he stared at the stars for a little bit, and then he finally spoke, "The nightmares. The person you can't remember, who were they screaming for? What did they look like?" San was accomplishing two things with this:

Helping Seven talk it out, and confirming or denying his suspicion that the man Seven had seen was Seonghwa.

San knew that this tender moment would only last at night. Maybe only this night, maybe every night he would have to wake up and hold him. He didn't mind. But he knew this night would be one of if not /the/ most important, if San wanted to get Seonghwa back. Or... at the very least, keep Seven in his life. He needed to help him calm down from the nightmares, help him realize –– gently –– that he had been right about Seven being Seonghwa and them having been in love. He had to prove that he knew what those nightmares were, so that he could help him really cope with them, instead of having them temporarily erased for convenience's sake. Six had to come back to hold Seven's hand through it all, but as if Seven's hand was made out of thin glass that would break if handled too roughly.

As San sat there, waiting patiently for Seven to gather his thoughts and answer, his mind wandered once again. He couldn't help it. All those sweet memories... The whole time San had been scared, and he was filled with regret for luring him onto the ship, even when he taught Seonghwa that series of purrs and growls that meant "I love you" in Na'rakan. Maybe he should have left him there on Earth, promised to return to him later. But he'd disguised it as something much sweeter. Seonghwa loved the stars, and by that point, Seonghwa knew San travelled in space. So he'd offered to take him up to see the stars, and there was no hesitation from the pretty raven-haired boy.

When they'd got to the Dollmaker's ship, Seonghwa had gotten confused.

San remembered the regret that had crept further and further up his spine, and he remembered the Dollmaker wiping it out. He hated that. That was what made San continue with bringing Seonghwa to them.

The exchange was heated, loud, and full of tears. From the two of them. The Dollmaker was cold, stiff, and had kept one arm on Seonghwa the entire time.

"How could you lie to me?!"
"Baby, I love you, I was going to –– "
"No you don't!"
His arm had shot out to grip Seonghwa's other arm, eyes pleading as he stared at the third party. "Anyone else but him, /please/."
A chirp and a trill from the alien told him no.
"No? No?! After all I've done for you, can't I have one ing nice thing? One person to love? A /companion/?!"
He saw Seonghwa's gaze soften in understanding. At the very least, Seonghwa didn't hate him in the moments before his death.
The same chirp and trill.
No again.
And Seonghwa was yanked from San's arms for the last time. San had fallen to his knees as he watched Seonghwa kick and scream and cry to be let go, cry out San's name. They both cried out their last "I love you" to each other, Seonghwa in his mother-tongue, and San in his.

That same night, San didn't sleep. He couldn't. He heard the echoes of the drilling, the ripping, the screaming, the crying, the retching, the sobs of his own name in Seonghwa's shrill voice. He could have dealt with that. At least Seonghwa was still there. But it was the silence that he couldn't deal with. The lack of Seonghwa's crying hurt more than its presence. Because that's when he knew Seonghwa had either died on the operating table, or been made to be his successor. San found it easier to cope with it being his lover's death. Because then he'd ultimately be able to tell himself he could never get him back.

It was his fault, but at least the result was permanent.

San shuddered, and his attention focused back on the poor thing in his lap. He lifted his head so they would be able to look at each other, and so San could wipe Seven's tears away.

[post deleted by owner]

@stupid san [] i ended up doing a slight bit of modding as well; just to make san ‘follow’ seonghwa with holding him, you’ll get what i mean towards the end if that sounds kinda dumb lol but anyways, it won’t happen again, i just kind of needed to write it(if you want me to change, just tell me and i will!)

Dreams were always an out of body experience.

Seven found that he didn’t dream the same as most other creatures. Rather than played out scenes, he dreamt of movement, emotions.. impressions of things that he didn’t recognise. Most of the time he slept peacefully through the night with nothing but the warm touch of his master beside him but the rare times where he had to sleep alone? Seven found himself subjected to nightmares; as detailed as his imagination could conjure.

Recurring themes were feelings of horror, terror, that he didn’t recognise coming from him, sometimes he’d feel as if a hot blade sliced through his skin similar to how he help under Dollmakers surgical scrutiny.

His master was usually the one able to stop his nightmares; a single touch to the black line tattooed on his neck and Seven would find himself floating, nothing but clouds and stardust drifting through his mind. Dollmaker was never pleased when Seven woke up the ship with his screaming yet they never revealed the contents of his dreams to him. Seven liked to believe that it was for his own good. He came to rely to his masters touch in moments like those.

And yet on his first night away from his master, Seven did not think once about his affliction.

Not until he realised that at some point during the trip, he’d slipped from consciousness. He no longer sat in Six’ chair, rather he stood in the operating room to watch a scene he’d seen thousands of times before and yet, this time, he felt like he’d been struck with a struck.

Seven watched as his master pulled apart a raven haired human; the poor creature screaming for somebody named Sand? No, screaming for San. The way his master flayed his experiment, rummaging through the boys cartilage to fashion into some new body part, or how he ripped the humans stomach and intestines out; there was bile, blood, falling onto the floor in a disgusting slop. Seven wanted to vomit, his own body burning in empathy for the boy. The boys thrashing and screaming stopped as he slowly died on the table, the only thing stopping his heart from stopping completely was a mechanical hand manually pumping the humans heart.

Seven wanted to turn away but he could not; he stayed rooted in his spot, taking shuddering breaths as his master worked on the human bit by bit. He could feel the humans emotions; the terrifying mess of confusion, fear, disgust, it all came to head in Seven as his eyes flew open, finally waking up to find himself not alone anymore.

Seven lurched forward with his hand covering his mouth to lean over the side of the chair.

There was nothing for him to throw up, Seven found, as he braced himself against the armchair and dry heaved onto the floor, saliva dripping from his lips. Somewhere in the midst of his thrashing, Seven had grabbed onto Six; holding onto the other man for dear life as his body tried to be sick.

Feeling Six tighten his grip around Seven sent his stomach heaving again(still— nothing but saliva) but it did wonders to calm his frantic trembling. He hated the Bhii’ast but right now, Seven was just relieved to have somebody with him for the feelings of terror wouldn’t leave him alone; his face was burning hot, goosebumps erupting over his flesh despite the warmth of the man behind him, and his breathing just ragged sobs.

“They won’t go away— w-why won’t they go away?” Seven muttered, tears welling up. He refused to let them fall, curling into the other mans arm and rubbing his eyes, an upset groan sounding from his chest.

Seven did not like to be so emotional. He wasn’t used to it after so many years of being trained into the perfect doll.

“Too— Too much, too much feeling.. make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—“

Seven wrapped his arms around Six’ next, moving to straddle the other mans lap and press his chest against the Bhii’asts, finding that the more contact he had, the better he felt. He wasn’t surprised by this, the same thing happened with Dollmaker albeit much quicker.

Six was so tall, even when sitting, that Sevens head barely fit into the crook of his neck though his sobs were muffled. Seven was unsure of how long they stayed like that; him clutching onto Six and said male holding him so tight, but eventually his sobs died down and he was left feeling drained, slumping in his predecessors hold.

It took a moment for Seven to find his voice to vocalise a troubling thought. “I.. I don’t even know who he was” Seven said quietly “I remember every single one of my masters projects and yet I don’t know this one. He’s just.. nothing.”

@seonghwa (damn we love size kink)

San had no reason to go back out to the cockpit right then. He wasn't going to apologize, as much as he wanted to. He was too angry, too upset, and too confused to go back out there. Normally, he was composed, calm, even cold, y, intimidating at almost eight feet tall. Fits of rage were rare, and tears were even rarer. But he couldn't help the frustrated tears that poured down his cheek and dripped off his chin onto the floor. His face, though, was fixed in a snarl, eyes wide and focused on nothing in particular. He looked crazed. The one thing he'd ever loved had been ripped away from him, "fixed," and thrown back at him like bucket of salt on a gaping wound. How could Dollmaker do this to him? Was it because he wanted to torture him for disobeying? For asking for freedom? Was Seven right? What even would he be right about? All of it? Maybe.

In San's room, in front of his bed, he had a big screen. It acted as a one-way mirror, as any sort of setting you wanted. This time, he set it to the mirror with just a few swipes once he stood up. He saw those legs dangling from his chair, then curl up. It reminded him of too many things. Falling asleep with Seonghwa in his arms in that chair, watching the stars up close together while he sat in his lap, their first exchange of "i love you"s, even the steamier moments. Seonghwa looked so pretty riding him in that chair, illuminated only by the lights of the stars behind him, sounded so pretty when they made out. He'd found Seonghwa in the chair one day, without him, happily watching the stars go by, and he'd carved that heart into one of the metal arms.

“What’s this? And who said you could sit in my seat?” he'd , scooped him up in his arms, and carried him to his room.

San didn't notice he was staring, reminiscing until the disgusting scrape of his claws against the screen and the metal of the wall. The one eye that could cry was glossy, and still spilling tears down his cheek. "Why did you have to take him from me..." he growled, sniffled, and slammed his fist against the wall. He sighed, long and shaky, as he carded his fingers through his hair. Slowly, he disrobed, and made his way to the shower. It was a long one, and a hot one, just to take time for himself, just... for a bit. And he went to sleep once he was clean and dry.

–– time skip, later in the middle of the night ––

A scream tore San out of his slumber. Not his own scream, but one from the only other person on the ship. San rushed to put just the bare minimum on: pants. He hurried out of the room and immediately knelt down in front of the chair Seven had fallen asleep in. Through the starlight, he could see poor thing thrashing and crying in his sleep. San knew. He knew those nightmares too well. It broke his heart. He carefully scooped Seven up into his arms, then swiftly switched so he was sitting in the chair, and Seven was in his lap. San held onto the smaller man desperately, and he even wrapped his tail around him. Any type of weighted pressure to help calm the poor thing. It used to help whenever Seonghwa had normal nightmares if they cuddled as tight as they could in the chair, if San played with his hair, whispered to him. He wouldn't do the last part this time, whispers would probably scare the poor boy. But he used his free hand to play with Seven's hair, scratch his scalp and his nape. San guided Seven's hand to the shiny white tattoo on his wrist, to the heart in the arm of the chair, something to bring him back to reality.

"Wake up, Seven... I've got you..."

@stupid san [] yo the muse for this is HIGH AS RIGHT NOW also: look how tall san is compared to seonghwa lmao if u use the 6’ for hwa and the 8 for san https://i.pinimg.com/originals/af/18/8e/af188e7cc2cc5cdb01e99876060692d8.jpg

Seven did not move as he was caged in by Six, his entire form tense as the Bhii’ast forced him to look at the taller man. Seven swallowed thickly, subtly trying to lean away from Six. Please don’t call me that, he desperately wanted to say, those two precious words making him ache inside. Seven was numb as he stared at Six, barely blinking at the mans violent words. He would have, should have even, protested because there was no chance that what he said was true but the ugly truth was; Six was right. Dollmaker would never let Seven die but they certainly wouldn’t be opposed to pushing him as far as he could on the brink of death.

All in the name of improving what was broken. Seven wasn’t broken. At least.. He didn’t think he was. “If it pleases my master, then I am happy to serve.” He replied automatically.

“And how could you possibly know I like to watch the st—“

The hissing of a sliding door cut Seonghwa off abruptly, leaving him to stand in a cold and empty cockpit. Alone.

Seven suddenly felt unsure of himself. He felt strange— his stomach was twisting as if he were about to be sick(and that was a near impossible feat now), his eyes burned and his throat felt.. stuck? Like there was something caught in it? He didn’t like this feeling. It was causing his body to shake and his breaths to come out a touch harsher than normal; nobody unless they knew him as well as Dollmaker did would be able to tell the difference. But he could. Seven could tell that his body was trying to do something but it just couldn’t.

He wrung his fingers together, blinking away the burning feeling. Seven cast a glance at the door Six had just walked through like he was half-expecting the taller man to come storming back out.

“Breathe, Seven..”

Seven was not sure what possessed him to walk over to Six’ chair, circling it slowly as his fingers drifted across its shape and texture. It didn’t feel as enigmatic without the Bhii’ast sitting in it, more like an ordinary pilot chair though Seven spied a heart scratched into metal. He touched it gently. An ache and then.. Nothing. He pulled back and stared at the chair for a few more moments before twisting and hopping into it.

If he sat normally, his feet dangled a few inches off the floor so he tucked his legs under his body, curling up into a ball. It felt better but not right, something was missing but a quick scan of the room left him empty handed. Seven sighed and leaned back, pressing his cheek against the back of the chair; it smelt like Six, he thought, as he inhaled deeply. As much as he disliked his predecessor, Six had a mind-numbingly wonderful smell. Dollmaker didn’t have a scent, being made up of strange elements that Seven was not aware of, so smelling musk so potent was invigorating.

Seven blinked slowly to the lull of the ship, his mind starting to wander as he drifted off to the feeling of padded metal wrapped around him— (“What’s this? And who said you could sit in my seat?”) Seven jerked up wildly, scrambling to look behind the chair as he could have sworn that he heard Six— though it was nothing like before. He’d never heard such warmth in anybody’s voice, not even Dollmaker.

But Six was not there.

Seven sank back down onto the chair, bringing his knees up to his chest. That was very strange indeed. Seven shook his head and turned his attention out the window, deciding to challenge himself to name every star he could see. He didn’t know how long Six would be holed up in his quarters for nor did he have any intention on finding out.

He just hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep.

He had nightmares if he wasn’t with Dollmaker.

@seonghwa "My love, I know I'm bat crazy and undeserving of any love, I don't need some experiment to tell me something I already know," he paused, then sneered. "I knew that full well when I made you love me, when you so eagerly didn't protest when they decided to take you from me," San's voice was like a loud bark that echoed through the cockpit. His synthetic eye was glowing red as he stared at the doll on the floor. His ears turned down, and his tail fluffed. He was /angry/, and if it weren't for the fact that he still loved the man he'd thrown on the floor, he'd kill him. San slowly stepped closer and got on one of his knees, trapping the smaller in between his legs, and the other knee rested at a right angle for him to rest his arm on and take Seven's chin into his hand. San forced him to look him in the eyes.

"I could maul you to near death like the beast I am, and Dollmaker wouldn't even care. They'd probably get off to it; they'd love to get even further into your guts just to see what I did to you, to see how they can fix you up to be even better than before I'd've had my way with you. They'd thank me," he snarled.

San was torn. He always ways, but this was one of the times it made him fall silent. He wasn't sure what to say next. He wanted Seven to remember, and he wanted to keep this teetering "new" relationship from falling apart before he could get him to that point. He wanted the one person he'd ever loved back. Yet at the same time, he was naturally pessimistic, and that paired with his extensive knowledge of the dollmaker's abilities was telling him to say -all and destroy it; there was no saving this, no getting Seonghwa back. His stern gaze wavered a bit, but it came back as quickly as it had faltered. San decided he'd... keep trying, even though it was still a bit too soon for his heart.

"I'll do what I need to do when we get there. You can sit here and stare at the stars. You always liked them," his voice was softer than the yelling from moments ago, but it was still clearly angry and gruff. And the sentiment was there, but dripped with bitterness. How could it not, that was the first thing he'd done with him as a "couple" on Earth, stargazing, and Seven would never remember, would call him a liar.

Wordlessly, San got off of Seven, and he made his way to his quarters. The door hissed when it opened from his handprint, and then again when it closed behind him.

@stupid san Perhaps Seven had taken things a step too far.

Though his neutrally displeased expression did not falter, he felt a sliver of uncertainty as he was backed into a wall; a random pipe jutting painfully into his spine. Seven swallowed thickly at what Six was saying, his mouth opening and closing to protest yet every attempt was silenced with another hiss from his counterpart.

He was forced to stand there like some, like some scolded /animal/, his lips downturning as spark pricks to his chest forced blood to stain his lovely blue bodysuit. Dollmaker would not be pleased. “You so much as harm a hair on me, master wi— !” Sevens angry hiss was cut off as a large hand closed around his throat; not choking him properly but enough that he could only just breathe. His hands flew up to grip at thick wrist in front of him, his blunt teeth bared in a silent snarl at the tall bhii’ast in front of him. For all good that would do. The blood was rushing to his head, his heart beat pumping faster and faster, he was so lost in Six’ raging speech that it didn’t occur to him to defend himself; something he’d regret later.

“I—“

a choked cough.

“Don’t— care!”

Seven kicked out as his airway was closed off completely, his grip around Six’ wrist tightening as he tried to squirm his way out. He couldn’t just stand here and listen to these filthy lies! Seven was found by his master, that was what Dollmaker told him, he most certainly had not been in the company of this feral creature that prided himself so much on being free. Freedom brought nothing but terror and wild emotions, so clearly displayed in the man in front of him.

Seven bit his lip as he lifted off the ground, his attempts at kicking Six falling flat as he was thrown to the floor like a doll(well, a real doll), pain reverberating through his elbows as his propped himself up. His fingers came to rub tenderly at his neck, a wheezing noise escaping him as he drew in his first— albeit shaky— breath.

“You’re a— l-liar and undeserving of their love—“ Seven hissed, his dry lips as he glared angrily up at the bhii’ast. “I have never, never known you and I regret agreeing to this— doomed mission” Seven pushed himself onto unsteady feet, curling his arms around his midsection. He was used to violent acts such as these but they made him terribly miss the comfort of his home. Seven wanted to go home; his real home. It was a horrible and secret desire of his, to miss the home he didn’t remember but right now.. It’s what he wanted. His ears twitched, an uncharacteristic sign of his sudden discomfort, especially as he looked away to stare hard at the floor.

“You are insane if you think that I would believe that I ever liked you, much less loved you. I only serve my master, I always have and will until my dying breath.”

@seonghwa Those last words stung more than those fake claws the dollmaker had given Seonghwa. Nothing would hurt as much as a Bhii'ast claw or a Nephente claw.

At first it had been cute, the anger Seven had let out. The attempt at threatening him. He could smell the poor thing's hesitation, its bluff. And even so, San loved pain. Barely felt it, but when he did, he liked it. So the scratch was just a tickle to him, and he had smiled devilishly while he let out a moan when blood was drawn, just to get under Seven's skin some more.

"I will remember your warning, and I will continuously ignore it. I know what I am, and I know what you are," he stood up, towering over Seven. He was calm, outwardly, but inside, he felt the heat brewing and broiling in his stomach. "Better yet, I know who you /were/, you poor thing. You can't even remember," he sneered. San curled his fingers as his claws grew out, much longer than Seven's, and he gave a sharp-toothed smile. "And /even better/," he continued on with a deep, rumbling growl, "is that you don't ing know what I was."

San had walked Seven to one of the walls by that point, and his claws jabbed into his chest, just enough to draw blood in between the cloth V. "You know why I'm called Six, it's because I was before you, but that's all you know. So let me tell you why you're number Seven before you say one more thing that makes me slit your pretty little sterile throat," he hissed, his hand snapping from Seven's chest to his nape. He held him firm, and he made sure he stayed looking at him.

"They took me when I was just a kid. I didn't get numbed when my parts were picked out and put in, I didn't have the privilege of getting my memory wiped clean," San spat. "I was their little ing toy right off the bat, and I was just sixteen. I begged them to let me go, so they did. But this is my debt. I owe them this. They could have just killed me, but they didn't because I /was/ good enough for them," he growled again and slowly curled his fingers around Seven's throat, quickly tightening to cut his air off and bruise his neck a bit as he spoke. "So good in fact that I brought them their seventh. /I/ was the one that found you. So you can thank me for making you fall in love with me, for convincing you to follow me here, and for pawning you off to Dollmaker even though it shattered every ounce of my soul, /Seven/," San finished, tossing Seven back toward the cockpit onto the floor as if he were a ragdoll.

"But sure, go thank Dollmaker."

@san “Very well.”

Seven paid no attention to Six’s motions, simply standing to attention until they were out into the cosmos. While he hated having to parted from Dollmaker, Seven rather enjoyed his interstellar travels as stars and far off planets always fascinated him. And nearly 48 hours out here? Seven had to swallow his forbidden childlike wonder.

“I will stay out here and meditate. It is difficult to sleep without masters presence.” Seven answered resolutely “And your ship is filthy. You need to clean it.”

Slaves like Six were always the most frustrating to deal with. They had the nerve to believe that they could do whatever they wanted with no consequences, they thought that they could go against what they were created for; obedience and servitude. Seven didn’t understand why the new slaves that were brought to Dollmaker acted the way they did. He, still to this day, was confused as to why they would try to fight against their new destiny when in reality, they should be grateful to have been chosen. What better honour was there than to be moulded into perfection? If Seven was able to take the time out of his schedule, he’d have enthusiastically given free rein for the Dollmaker to do as they wished.

But at this current time, it wasn’t possible.

And yet here was Six.

The complete opposite to Seven with his blatant disrespect to their masters wishes. It made his skin crawl like a million Gloxian Bugs were burrowing themselves.

Seven turned to look back at out the window, determined to ignore Six’ existence entirely until necessary when he felt hands grip at his waist and suddenly he was in a crumpled heap on his partners lap. Seven inhaled sharply, wondering why he hadn’t yet pushed himself away but oh— when he breathed, he was drowned in a mixture of leather, sweat and whatever musk Six had and it was so, so different to Dollmakers sterile scent but it made Seven react the same way; breathing in nice and deep, the desire to bury his face in the crook of Six’ neck—

Seven froze. This was not his master. He could /not/ react like this to an absolute heathen.

He sat up slowly, refusing to look at the Bhii’ast behind him in favour of closing his eyes. Seven clenched his fists against his thighs, a shiver running down his spine as he felt Six’ disgusting gaze on his back. Sitting here, he felt like a toy.

“I don’t know what a ‘Hwa’ is but my name is Seven.”

Seven stood up slowly, carefully unwinding Six’s hands from his waist. He bent over the chair, one hand gripping at the edge as the other came to cup the other mans chin; Seven felt a slightly tug in his fingers as his nails extended into sharp points, sharp enough to threaten piercing the skin if he so much as moved. There was no will for actual bloodshed behind it, he wasn’t even sure if the Bhii’ast would find threatening given how much bigger than Seven was but maybe, just maybe, it’d convince the other male that he wouldn’t be afraid to violence should it come to it.

“And you’ll remember my warning about not touching me. You are not Dollmaker, you are not my master, so keep your hands off” Seven hissed, applying more pressure. He let go of Six, his nails shrinking back to their normal lengths. The red marks on the Bhii’asts face were satisfying to look at, he’d have liked to have gone a bit further but he knew that Dollmaker wouldn’t like that. His upper lip curled in disgust as he turned away, striding to the opposite side of the cockpit to ignore his partner.

Though he couldn’t resist putting in one more jab.

“I can see why our master decided to replace you. Somebody like you could never be good enough for them. I’ll be thanking Dollmaker for finding me.”

@seonghwa "Yeah, I know that they like to make all of us look like eyecandy," was what he wanted to say. He knew too well. But he knew Seven didn't know, how could he have known. So he stayed silent, save for a few grunts of acknowledgment.

Sometimes San travelled with a Di'va by the name of Hongjoong. He was rather spunky, and he'd asked to have a right-hand man, which San had no problem with being. But he still had his own ship for when he wasn't needed by the captain. And since the man /was/ a Di'va, San had no issue finding his way to Nefertari. That, and over the years, San had travelled there plenty of times on his own.

So, "No, I've gone there enough to know where to go."

A scan of his hand turned the ship on, and with a few taps of the same screen and phrases typed into a keyboard, San had programmed the shortest route into the autopilot, set it to go as fast as it could. As much as he still adored Seven, he didn't want this to last too long. But even then, the screen said it was going to take about an Earth day or two to get there. It was going to be a long 48 hours there, and a long 48 back. Not to mention however long it would take to find that needle in the haystack. With a sigh and a shake of his head, San piloted the ship out of the hanger before he pressed the screen, allowing the autopilot to take over. He turned around in his chair to face Seven, steadying himself as the ship suddenly shot forward into its full speed.

"It's going to take anywhere from one to two Earth days, 24 to 48 hours," Six started, "so when the time comes, you're welcome to sleep in my room with me," he gestured towards his own room, "or you can sleep where I keep the cattle I bring Dollmaker. But it's also pretty sticky in there, which you seem to hate," he gestured with his other hand directly across from his own room, voice heavy with exasperated sarcasm. Seven had been there before, but not for a long time. Six grew too fond of him too quickly, and let him sleep with him. His eyes leered over Seven's clothes, his face, and his mind wandered to those nights back on the ship with him. Rarely did he leave Seonghwa clothed, too pretty to cover him up...

He ignored what Seven said about the touching. He knew he was permitted; what was the dollmaker's was also Six's. Six was basically an extension of the dollmaker. He reached out, pulled the doll into his lap –– he knew it would frustrate him, that's what he wanted –– and let out a grossly sweet purr up at him, "If it were up to me, I'd have you in my bed, pretty, I'd very much enjoy the company of such a pretty toy, Hwa." He'd added Seven's old name at the end half by accident, and half out of curiosity. He wondered if he'd remember or not. Nothing of the ship seemed to spark a memory, but he was almost sure either of the two rooms might since he'd never really brought Seonghwa to this portion of the ship.

San wanted nothing to do with Seven, yet he also wanted to hold him and never let go again. He knew he'd never get Seonghwa back, both physically and... wherever that boy's old consciousness had gone. Maybe that was for the better, San didn't know. As much as the big cat had come to love and adore Seonghwa, he doubted it had been the same for him. He'd betrayed his trust by stealing him, manhandling him. He'd spent quite a long time on Carpathia for that one. In that time, he knew he'd gotten the human wrapped around his finger, and he'd slowly wrapped himself around the human's finger. If it wasn't for his job, he might have even stayed there with him. Yeah he looked weird: a tail, ears, those eyes, claws and teeth, towering over basically everyone on that planet. It didn't bother him. One, because he was used to being gawked at when he too was just as supernaturally, inhumanly gorgeous as Seven. And two, because the idea of staying inside and being only with Seonghwa outweighed everything in those moments with him. At that moment in time, he didn't mind the idea of being domesticated. But the dollmaker had sensed that, and had made his brain fuzzy, he clarified what he was /supposed/ to be doing. Not even directly had it been clarified for him.

" d̶̩̯̠̜͔on̞͈͍͎̠'̥̲̤̕t͚̙͕̗͓̖͢ ̴͙̤̱̝̜͉f̖̙͞o̻͚̗̦̘r̼̯̀g̝̻͕̗̩̺̻e̜̺t̸̫̗ "

Was the sole phrase that forcibly echoed and reverberated through his skull.

And it did the same again, but not forced by the dollmaker, rather echoed like a memory.

Six wouldn't up again. San wouldn't go soft for Seonghwa again. This was Seven. His guide. His /assigned/ guide. His assigned stress reliever. Seven was here out of obligation, not desire.

Six /couldn't/ up again.

@san There was something about Six that made Seven uncomfortable.

It certainly wasn’t the rather relaxed swagger that the Bhii’ast had nor was it the way that his upper lip curled when he not so subtly growled at Sevens appearance; those were actions that most people seemed to have in his presence, his strange appearance and affiliations making him universally disliked.

No.. It was something else..

Sevens cloudy, pupil-less eyes narrowed slightly as Six stood up, trying to determine what it was that made him feel so on edge. The man in front him had Seven imagining scenarios where he partook in acts of such violence it made him feel sick and yet.. There was another, equally unfamiliar desire within. One where both the ideas of holding this wretched pirates beating heart in his claws was as equally desirable as burying himself into the pirates coat.

He didn’t like this feeling. This feeling made his heart beat quicker, his fingers twitch ever so slightly, his mouth curl downwards.

Why was he so affected by this person he’d never met before?

“Our master sent me to assist you. I do not know why nor do I question their decision.” Seven said stiffly, his own teeth baring slightly at the sheer disrespect at him and his master. Did Six learn nothing under Dollmakers tutelage? Was this why he was let go? Because he was insubordinate and so clearly selfish? No wonder his master had sought out a replacement. “I am honoured with this opportunity to help a past servant and provide a service to Dollmaker.”

Seven refused to give Six the pleasure of flinching away, so he fixed a hard stare at the pirate, almost mentally daring him to continue touching him with those dirty hands of his. Nobody other than his master was allowed to touch him; Seven was the purest and cleanest out of all of Dollmakers servants and the thought of being tainted by some— by some reject of all people! Oh, it just made him burn with rage.

He shivered imperceptibly as claws dragged down the micro-fibres of his suit, Seven briefly shutting his eyes as Six’s presence disappeared behind him. He wanted to kill him, so badly, the desire was making his heart beat faster, harder, the blood in his veins pumping—

And then there was a hush in his mind, something silent clicking into place and suddenly, the static and his uncertain feelings melted away under the presence of his owner in his head. They must have felt his distress from afar and sought to calm him. Seven breathed his nose, his features melting back to a cool, neutral disposition. All was well, he was at peace once more.

“Please refrain from touching me in the future, Six, as only master is permitted.” There was an almost dreamy quality to his monotone voice. Why was he so angry? His emotions weren’t important, not when he had a master to serve.

[1/2]

Seven followed after Six, a ghost in bare feet compared to the loud thumping from his counterpart. “I must thank you for your compliment, it is master’s wish for me to look pleasing to the eye; I will make sure to tell them that their work has been successful.” He filled the silence with, clasping his hands together.

It was a short, tense walk to Six’ chip; said man positively crackling with angry energy. If the Bhii’ast was going to be like this then Seven understood why his master had recommended he go along; the creatures in the wild forests of Nefertari were sensitive to emotions, Six would need a companion to calm and protect him.

Six’s ship was much smaller than Seven had expected, though the vehicle taking up a decent portion of the Dollmakers small cargo-hold and it certainly looked like it belonged to a pirate; this must be a personal ship as there was no way the thing could hold more then 3 people comfortably in the cockpit. He had his doubts as to whether the ship would fly fast enough to Nefertari but he supposed there was no other way. He followed the man into the ship, cringing when he stepped in something sticky along the way, and taking his place behind Six’s pilot seat.

“Will you require any assistance with travelling to Nefertari?”

[2/2]

@seonghwa San's heart almost entirely stopped beating when the hydraulic hiss of the sliding door revealed Seven and not the dollmaker. There was no way. It couldn't be. It was a mix of rage and utterly painful heartbreak that washed over San and coursed through every single vein in his body. Why did it have to be this one? Why was /he/ number Seven? Anyone but him. Of course, he understood, on the one hand. Seonghwa was so beautiful, how could the dollmaker not want to make that gorgeous boy their prized possession, the thing to be displayed during their auctions. So maybe the question to ask was why had San let himself go soft for this one, of all the playthings he'd brought the dollmaker? Just his luck to have a soft heart for the prettiest, most gentle human being he'd ever stolen, ever laid eyes on; just his luck to have wanted to hide him on his ship and kept him for himself. Of course he had... of course he had.

But yes, San had received the order. His tattoo had also glittered and pulsed, he'd heard that god-awful static and that whisper of a purple planet. Why of all things the dollmaker needed that, he didn't know, and he cursed to himself. Those things were the worst combination: rare, and difficult to obtain. Thankfully, San had claws and canines that he'd gotten quite good at using to kill when necessary, but he had a feeling Seven was sent to make sure that /didn't/ happen this time.

He was growling again, and he was baring his teeth, but the light that came into the room from the hallway outside only really caught his eyes as it curved around Seven's figure. He made it sound like more of a purr as he stood up, brushing off the black, low-cut blazer and tight dark leather jeans that had wrinkled from sitting. The jewels on his mechanical eye glittered, as did the chains on his jeans, the earrings (and other various bits of body jewelry) he was wearing, and the layers of necklaces that sat on his bare skin in the v-cut of his blazer. He slipped his boots back on and he stood to loom over Seven, slipping the long leather trench-coat–like jacket he had back on.

"Yes, I did. I doubt he told you why we're getting it, so I won't ask. And did he send you along so I don't kill anyone or because he knows I'll need something to relieve my stress? My boredom?" San's words were charged with that anger, not at Seven, but at the dollmaker, but he spat them out at Seven like venom. His voice turned from a growl into a scarily sweet whisper as his claws threaded through Seonghwa's snowy hair, "You /are/ awfully pretty, Seven. I can see why Dollmaker gave me their prettiest, newest toy for such a long ride." Six's claws trailed down Seven's chest and around his side to his back as he circled around him and out of the room.

As much as San hated the feeling of salt being poured on an open wound, he had to push it down and make the best of it, or else he would fail in getting what the dollmaker what they wanted. For now, he decided to not look at Seonghwa too much. He was too upset right now. Later, on the long journey there, he'd look at him and talk to him, but initially, he couldn't bring himself to. He knew Seonghwa was either still standing there or falling behind as the click of his boots echoed through the ship's halls, and he gave Seonghwa two quick snaps and another growl, looking back at him with that moonstone eye so thinly slit it looked like he had no pupil.

@san There was a sort of sick fascination that Seven felt when watching the Dollmaker rummage around his abdominal cavity, plucking each of his organs out into the light to inspect carefully this way and that; the needle he’d been injected with before had dulled the pain considerably but there was the odd case of swooping nausea when Dollmaker removed his small intestines rope by rope onto the table or when having his heart gently squeezed by long fingers had him breathless. All blood that dripped onto the him or the table was promptly cleaned by a little green cyborg, ensuring the area remained sterile.

It was disconcerting, certainly, to see how his lungs would inflate when he breathed in, but the delight that grew from Dollmaker with each inspection had him feeling elated. The Dollmaker was usually faceless unless they decided to morph but the way their white skin would light up with reds and blues were a dead giveaway.

His examination was not supposed to happen quite yet, then something behind the scenes had required Dollmaker to pull Seven aside from his duties and check

Sooner than he had expected, Seven felt his chest be sewn back up, cold fingers massaging burning cream that would leave him scarless in only a few hours. It hurt but he couldn’t show it.

His eyelids fluttered as smooth fingers carded through his hair, breathing sharply when those very fingers trailed down his face to at the black ring around his neck; the pain from his abdomen replaced with feelings of pride and excitement that weren’t his own. Dollmaker was pleased. Seven had not shown any signs of rejection for his latest examination, he was perfect. “Thank you, master” He breathed, reaching to bring the long fingers from his clavicle up to his lips, kissing the glass like structure.

“ý̵̢̢͇̈́͝ou kn̸̠̠̼͒͌o̴̞͖͍͋͐̕w w̸̞͇̒̈́hä̴͍͔̺́̈́͋t i̸̟̠̾͐͘ wanẗ̴̙̪͎́̐͝ yoǘ̸͉̺̒́ w̴͔͍̟̔̐͛ill̸͇̦̙̾͒͐ e̴͚̝͖͊͌͠scö̵͖̟̝́͑rt Ș̴̠͍͑́́ì̴͕̺̺͝͝x and a̴͙͎͔̒̿̕ss̵͙͓͇͋̚͝is̸̡͉̽͊t i̵̺̘͕̓̐̕n̴̡̟̼̕͠ r̴͙͕̝͐̽etr̴͔͔͔͑͆̚i̵͖͙͛̈́͑͜ev̵͖̦́̚͝i̴̙̺̠̐̒͝n̵͚͎̻͋̈́g̵͔̻͔̓̾͒ a c̵͓͖͊̀͜͝rys̵̪̻͇̈́͑́t̴͍̠͖͆̚͘al.̵̡͙̝͒̓̀”

Seven peered up at Dollmaker as they spoke, the warped sound of their voice worming into the deepest crevices of his brain, planting the compulsion to want to serve; though Seven did not need it by this point, he was always willing. He was confused at first but then a touch to his mark showed him visions of a glowing purple planet and it all made sense. That was why this was happening. He was being ordered to assist in retrieving a Nefertari crystal.

“Yes, master, I will not fail you.” Seven accept the Dollmakers hand in helping him off the table, the cold of the floor jarring to his bare feet, he shivered in his lack of clothing but nonetheless linked his fingers together and bowed, humming softly as fingers tapped on his shoulder. Seven knew what Dollmaker wanted and he was glad to give it, standing on his toes to press a kiss to where their lips would be. It was a funny little habit of Dollmakers, to request some sort of affection their favourite creations; Seven knew that it was something that most, if not all, of the others had done before him to some extent, a tradition of sorts that he had qualms in continuing.

“If you’ll excuse me, master.”

Seven dressed himself back into the ice blue bodysuit with little difficulty, finding that overextending himself causing sharpness in his stomach though he refused to react. He quietly left the room, leaving Dollmaker to their own devices, and made his way to where Six was likely to be(because it was where he, himself, retired when he had nothing to do); the Dollmakers private quarters.

Seven reached into his pocket, pulling out sapphire and silver ear cuffs that Dollmaker had given him after his first surgery that he attached to his ears. While Dollmaker preferred no emotion other than pure worship and adoration for themselves, Seven took pride in showing off all the luxuries and gifts he was given as the favourite. Most of these gifts included various jewels from around the universe but he’d always had a special attachment to blue sapphires; they were the only gems to come from some small planet called Terra, or Earth as some humans referred to it, but he could not place why he treasured them so.

He had slipped on a matching ring set and nose ring when he arrived at Dollmakers quarters, pressing his hand to the scan pad. The door slid open smoothly and he shivered, visibly affected by the aura left behind by his master as he stepped inside. Six, as he noted, looked entirely out of place in his garish outfit. Seven supposed it came with the occupation but, if it weren’t for Six’s handsome face, he would not understand why Dollmaker selected him. His first impression of the pirate was that he was going to be very rough and reckless.

Seven suddenly didn’t want to leave the comfort of his master.

“Six.” Seven greeted coolly, performing the same salute-bow he had earlier “Has our master informed you of what we need?”

@seonghwa It had been a while since San had been sent out on what both he and the dollmaker liked to call "errands," and he knew if he didn't deliver, he'd be "Six" again. Or dead, he never really knew the consequence of disobeying their deal with the dollmaker. And it didn't help that the dollmaker was usually too busy playing with the toys San brought them to constantly give him orders, so more often than not, San found himself requesting for requests.

He didn't really mind, it was much better than feeling like the dollmaker's prey, but it was sort of exhausting asking for things to keep himself "free." But maybe the dollmaker was just waiting for him to up so they could have their favorite back... Regardless, San wasn't about to have that happen anytime soon.

San had a pretty good grasp of what was where on their ship from his time being a toy, and the gaps could be filled in with being able to smell out what he was looking for. He looked in the dollmaker's room first, but they weren't there, so he just decided to wander until he could figure out where they had gone. And that brought him to the operating room that he knew all too well –– well, he knew the /inside/ too well, the outside was still foreign to him. Just the sight of it brought fleeting flashes of physical memory back: blood, cold metal, drilling, too hot, too cold, too wet, pulling, ripping, shoving, cutting, screaming, crying. He just stood there, growling to himself, as fingertips dragged over the glowing gold cyborg eye. It was so pretty, but it was such a hassle to get in. Not because the dollmaker wasn't skilled, because they were, but because San had a habit of squirming and crying on the table. He didn't like when they touched him, even if it was necessary. But... that eye was the only time he had needed to go to surgery. No matter now. He was free.

San shrugged off the memories with an audible shudder, and he finally dared to look in, the ears he'd been given turned down in distaste and the tail he had gotten back flicking from side to side. There was someone on the table, but he couldn't tell who it was –– but he could tell they were very much awake. The dollmaker loomed over them in typical mad doctor fashion. So that's what it looked like... Their hair was the same white as the streak in his hair, the same white as the dollmaker's... "skin." San assumed it must have been his replacement, Seven. He never knew which of his catches the dollmaker had decided to deem number Seven, but by that pure white hair, San knew that had to be them. With a tilt of his head, to give his mechanical eye a better view, he could see that Seven's insides were in the dollmaker's hands, and it made him lurch forward a little bit and hold his own stomach out of a sympathy pain. Thank god that was never done to him...

But that seemed to be all that was happening. No augmentation, just studying. So San let out a sigh, shook out any remaining jitters he had left in his body, brushed back his hair only for it to fall back in the same position, and walked back to the dollmaker's room. As number Six, and as their most idolized thief (of sorts), San knew he had full reign to be in their room, so once he arrived, he sat down on the bed, at the silken sheets that used to be his as well.