Dollhouse ~ Ghostbird Fanfic

17• Who's There?

Only a single limb, an scrawny arm of hers, is free from the bagpiper's. It is her hand to watch out for. The bagpiper is more mindless, obedient and destructive only by order. She is volatile and who could blame her for being so? Blinded, her mind hides in the deepest recesses of her being so she's safe from her reality. She only feels rage and fear, lashing out at anything that gets too close to her. Father giving her talons made of her own bone makes her truly deadly. If she were seperate from the bagpiper she'd be unhinged, uncontrollable.

The bagpiper didn't walk away unscathed. His face's flesh is twisted as if someone took his nose and kept turning it in one direction until the flesh peeled away and became stuck as it is now. One eye is under the flesh, but the other is how they both see.  His abdomen had been slashed and his ribcage broken open, so the new flesh regrew over the bulbous cavern. It's where he tucks away those he's ordered to fetch for father.

Just to mock them further, father dressed them in the frilliest white dress.

A tear leaves my left eye as I take in what they've become. The Chimera, as father dubbed them, is beginning to deteriorate. Their flesh is grey and sagging, mottled with black decay,  their lips pull away from their teeth leaving a scarring image of blackened teeth and a sore ridden tongue. They're expiring...

.... but still lethal.

I cling tighter to Luke as real fear takes hold of me. I've become apathetic to the safety of my wards. I hold little more weight for their lives than my own. Luke though, and the others, cannot die. I can't let that happen.

"Luke," I whisper into his ear. He holds me closer, thumb mindlessly rubbing at the soft flesh of my rear, "Hm?"
I unwind my arms from around his neck and push against his chest.

"Run," I rasp out, maneuvering until I'm able to throw him to the side and out of the way. Had he been prepared for that he could've easily stopped me, but he isn't familiar with my mannerisms nor his new and still improving body.

Briefly, I glance at him out the corner of my eyes. A pang of regret stabs my heart seeing him tossed so haphazardly on the earth and tangled in the brambles. I don't linger long.

Glancing at the Chimera Doll, I glower at it before taking off in the woods and away from Luke.

The treelimbs tear at my hair and the fabric of my dress. The sodden soil tries to snatch my feet from under me, but my unlife granted me one blessing. I'm not strong like my mother and I'm not fast like Draven, but I am agile, quick to react. I'm limber, balanced, and acrobatic. In its own way, it's superior and simultaneously inferior. If I need to be invisible or if I need to escape, I couldn't ask for a better talent. If I need to defend myself however, I'm in the worst possible position biologically to do so.

I lead that damned Doll further away from Luke, not caring what happens to me so long as he's safe and out of harm's way. Cadavers have a different perspective of that when concerning their charges. I can only hope I die here and don't have to suffer through their coddling. I've heard tales of Cadavers punishing their charges when they endanger themselves like I'm doing now. They haven't fully melded with their Cadaver halves, so here's to hoping they don't get too carried away.

I can hear it gaining ground behind me. It's lumbering steps landing in wide-taken strides. The girl squalls in agitation, the slashing of her claws cutting the air. I pick up speed, lungs burning with the effort. I've never cursed the effects of starvation on a Methuselah more so than now. My advancements are dwindling and minuscule in comparison to how they usually are. I'm no better than a human child.