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Entry tags:
princess maker - BAD END=DEAD END
[ When you insert the key and open the door, you'll find yourself in a humble cottage, in what seems to be the living room specifically. There are several doors, but a specific one catches your eye: simple in its decoration, the door has a cute little wooden plaque with flowers carved into it. Though the door is closed, you can see through it—as if it's somewhat transparent.
A wooden cradle sits in the room beyond, which is otherwise plain. Inside, a baby sleeps peacefully. When she stirs, calling for her parent, you are there to cradle her back to sleep. ]
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[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby coos pleasantly, giggling jovially when you (presumably) make faces at her; she tries to pick herself up and falls over, but she does not cry; a disagreement between you and her lead to a thoughtful discussion; the young girl carries a large laundry basket to do chores; she buys a pet bird, looking so proud for having earned the money all by herself; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the middle of the open doorway, a young girl the age of 10 stands, smiling at you. A bird with beautiful plumage rests on her shoulder.
This is your daughter. You tried your best to rear her, and she's been good to you. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it - even becoming a princess. But you also know it's not easy to become a princess - she'll have to work hard, and she's capable of it but you'll have to guide her hand, most certainly. Better she become a princess than go off to war, though; you could not stand to see your baby girl die on the battlefield. Whether she actually becomes a princess or not . . . well, that's up to fate, isn't it? All you can do is try your best. ]
A wooden cradle sits in the room beyond, which is otherwise plain. Inside, a baby sleeps peacefully. When she stirs, calling for her parent, you are there to cradle her back to sleep. ]
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[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby coos pleasantly, giggling jovially when you (presumably) make faces at her; she tries to pick herself up and falls over, but she does not cry; a disagreement between you and her lead to a thoughtful discussion; the young girl carries a large laundry basket to do chores; she buys a pet bird, looking so proud for having earned the money all by herself; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the middle of the open doorway, a young girl the age of 10 stands, smiling at you. A bird with beautiful plumage rests on her shoulder.
This is your daughter. You tried your best to rear her, and she's been good to you. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it - even becoming a princess. But you also know it's not easy to become a princess - she'll have to work hard, and she's capable of it but you'll have to guide her hand, most certainly. Better she become a princess than go off to war, though; you could not stand to see your baby girl die on the battlefield. Whether she actually becomes a princess or not . . . well, that's up to fate, isn't it? All you can do is try your best. ]
Re: DISCUSSION
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"Okay? Uhm - I think so . . . ? I'm fine."
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"Are you okay. . . ?"
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How... how much do you remember?
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She thinks, gently petting his back. In a mild tone:
"I remember goin' through the door, an' then there was a bright light. Hey. . . did we make it through?"
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We didn't make it through. We thought we'd lost you... We were so scared.
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She gives a little sigh, and leans on him.
"Well, I'm okay. I'm tough!"
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Of course you are, you're Princess Kickass.
[ Then he gets serious. ]
Is everything okay? Anything wrong at all? Any pain or nausea...?
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She is not really sure how to broach the subject with him.
"I think. . . uhhhm. . . I think I can't see. Yeah."
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[ It's all he says at first, a little helplessly as the guilt weighs on him. Then he nods and pulls back slightly, still hugging her but looking at her face. ]
We'll help you with that. We'll teach you braille, get you a seeing-eye dog or else a cane, help you learn blindfighting. How does that sound to you?
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Her tone is mild, and she gives a nod.
"Yeah, that sounds fine to me, I think. Can my bird help?"
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Of course.
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She closes her eyes, finally. She's . . . handling this remarkably . . . well . . . ?
Is this handling things well?
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He'll just hold onto her for now and support her however he can. ]
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"I love you, Papa. It's gonna be okay."
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