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. ]
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There's people who do that?
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Tell me you have a plan B.
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Pity we can't just get her a new set of eyes.
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[She bumps into something and he winces. Okay. Maybe it is the worst thing.]
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"Yes, Papa?"
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[ He sits down next to her and holds her hand. ]
Did you know... sometimes, part of being strong is also being willing to admit when you're hurt or angry? Admitting pain.... it's scary. But keeping it inside just hurts you worse.
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". . . Uh huh."
She listens, idly - as if this were completely unrelated to her.
"Are you hurt, Papa? Are you scared of admitting pain?"
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[ Sanguine takes in a deep breath and expells it slowly. ]
We.... me and your mom and your other dads. We hurt you a lot. We didn't mean to, but that doesn't make it hurt less. It's... I want you to know it's okay to be angry. To tell us you're angry. Or hurt. Or scared. However you feel... it's okay to feel that way.
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She nods, and then - after a long moment, speaks quietly.
". . . If you were hurt, but no one hurt you . . . is it still okay to be angry an' hurt?"
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