Work Text:
Somewhere in Ye Olde Toontown, the distinct sound of metal clanking rang out on the street. Low level toons, who had wandered a bit too far from their normal stomping grounds, quickly fled, knowing precisely who was making those sounds. Gleaming metal only confirmed one's suspicions, and smarter toons knew to get out of dodge before the red eyed cog spotted them.
Holly Grayelle meant business today.
Word of mouth had spread that the cog was being exceptionally more cutthroat than usual, not going so far as to resort to extremely underhanded tactics, but definitely ramping up her power more than was necessary. Even higher laff level toons were being greened, at rates that were quite frankly terrifying.
Nearly everyone feared the worst. For 3 days this had been going on, and toon morale was low, resistance rangers at a loss as to what they should do. Since the cog didn’t seem to be grievously maiming anyone, nor was she encroaching on anything but her usual patrol grounds, most simply threw up their hands, and resolved to merely keep an eye on the situation.
Holly’s (albeit unintentional) plan had worked. The uptight cog was wound up even more than usual, and it seemed her frustrations had leaked into her work. The only one to not realize her unusual behaviour in battles, was herself. Her mind was elsewhere, and she simply wasn’t present. The thing that was eating at her took precedence over nearly every other function of her processor.
She needed Misty’s creation day gift, to be PERFECT.
Nothing else would suffice, in her eyes. But time was drawing short. Over the span of 5 months of knowing the date, of days spent carefully planning, she still had nothing that would suffice.
Aggrieved, she hooved at the ground. She’d stopped by a lamp post, leaning against it as she carefully thought. The cog hadn’t noticed till she nearly banged her hoof into the thrice damned thing. She huffed.
The project had been started, then restarted, then restarted again, then scrapped, then started, easily 10 times over. She’d tried weaving a tapestry (Misty always complained their apartment was gloomy), then weaving a scarf (the dock was windy), then forging a blade (for emergencies), as well as a slew of other things. But nothing seemed right, nor did it suffice, falling short of her (famously) high standards.. Her ears flattened back, and she hoofed at the ground yet again. Despite normally being on the very peak of her ability, an apex predator on the top of the company's pecking order, she was still standing here, basically wringing her hands like a maiden with her first crush. It was, frankly, embarrassing.
Just out of her peripheral, she could hear the pattering of feet.
The real reason why every toon had lately turned tail and ran, was truly due to the fact that Holly needed time alone. She needed to think, to ponder with a full and clear mind. But her work wouldn’t finish itself, so she mindlessly followed her feet, letting instinct drive her righteous hand. Her ears perked up, minutely moving to and fro as she followed the noise.
There, around the corner. Moving with purpose, she thundered past the brick wall of a storefront. And stopped.
There, along a wall, two toons were hugging. One was short and lanky, and was currently being pukeably cute as they were clinging around the neck of their friend, a taller, medium build toon. The sight should have made her blood boil, but their attire had ground her hooves and train of thought to a complete halt.
The clothes they were wearing must have been on the older side, as there were oddly neat, organized patches all over their sweaters. The odd thing was, the patches were from.. the others clothing? She was dumbfounded. Had they- had they torn apart their own clothes? Or had they torn naturally, and the other had simply donated from their own garment? There was also the peculiar matter of the embroidery work. Little decals littered the edges of the fabric patches, embroidery floss twisted to mimic vines, as a way to turn secure stitching into something with a bit more intrigue and flair. It was utterly fascinating, and she was struck by the simple beauty of it. Where one had failed, the other had given something to support them. In doing so, the wearer would always have a little piece of the dontator, a physical reminder of their care, their affections.
The horse-like cog wasn’t able to take in the scene for long, as one of the toons had spotted her. Frantically, they had grabbed the hand of their partner, and beat a hasty retreat down the street, the sounds of bat squeaks and yipping mews echoing down the barren corridors of the cobblestone streets.
She let them go, and marched back to her own abode. It was just about time for her to clock out anyway, and Thomas could quite frankly bite her shiny round flank if he had anything to say about her not doing her usual overtime or night rounds (done for the sole purpose of being able to gloat to Prester, of course).
Holly Grayelle had bigger fish to fry at the moment.
==
Several days later, on the night before Misty’s build day, Holly was diligently toiling away. She had been spending the last 5 hours precisely and methodically sewing the fabric patches into place, and was finally, FINALLY about to finish her embroidery work.
The previous days had been spent frantically fighting toons, patrolling, and whipping her little project out to get some work done. She felt like a criminal, sneakily ducking into alleys to poke at fabric run through a hoop with the same care a surgeon gives to their patient. Her free time was limited, but she refused to let a paltry excuse like that ruin her gift. Fortunately, the time had been well spent. She’d been making good progress, and the finishing touches were being put on right at the moment.
Suddenly, her fuel tank panged. It had done that twice in the last hour, and she had barely registered it amidst her ardent need to finish, to be done. But her hands were turning shaky, and it was risking her quality of work. The wave of gnawing hunger hit her, suddenly, and she knew she could not put off her needs any longer. Joints groaning, she heaved herself upright. She’d been stuck in one position for so long, that they'd all locked up on her.
Slowly trickling back into awareness, she made her way to her kitchen, and fixed herself some fuel. Not wanting to risk being absorbed right back into her work, she sat at her dining table, quickly finishing her little pick me up. Her work was calling to her again.
She settled back on her bed, before a strange thought entered her head. Why did she care so much? This need to please, to do well, went well beyond her usual strict standards, and had at some point veered off into a direction she wasn’t familiar with. Her hand, needle still pinched in her fingers, paused. She needed to lay out the facts.
For one, Misty Monsoon was a company employee, but was lower on the corporate ladder than herself. In fact, she was borderline forgettable by most of the company, so she was technically LOWER by social standards. Holly had nothing to gain by appealing to her.
Her optics narrowed.
No, no. She gained something, but it was immaterial, its value could not be weighed, nor could it be hoarded in the way most material possessions could. She wracked her brain. The closest thing she could liken the thing to was some kind of rush, a feeling of jitters, of a need for the other cog to think of her favorably, to want her near as much as she wished to be near Misty.
The cog cocked her head, needle still hovering.
But why? Why did she want her near? What did Misty have that she could possibly want?
Her tail flicked with irritation. Cogs dealt nearly exclusively in exchanges, business or otherwise. So why was this different?
She thought harder.
Maybe it was just how unique the other cog was. Her voice was rough and a bit hoarse, constant use and erosion of her voice box by the elements contributing to her rich tone. Maybe it was the chance to hear her rare laughs, the gleeful snorts of joy almost always followed by the most fascinating thing of all. Even with their mask, Misty's face in laughter was one of her most favorite sights. Her eyes would crinkle, eyebrows drawing up as her face was contorted in joy. The sight would go just as quickly as it came, and the rarity of such a sight, the honor and luck to see it, was not lost on her.
Again, though, her brain waffled on the why. Misty, her presence, it brought her nothing tangible, except these strange bursts of inexplicable feelings.
Maybe, her brain offered up quietly, it was best not to look into this too hard. The sun always rises for its moon, and no amount of questioning could ever change that. This felt as permanent as that, as intuitive as walking.
The lack of sleep was getting to her, because instead of questioning it further, the odd words seemed to satiate that tearing feeling to know and understand herself, lest it cause her trouble with people in the future.
For now, the cog was content to continue her careful needlepoint, and forged onward.
==
At the entrance to the boatyard's pier, Holly paused. Her posture was straightened, spine poised powerful and strong. Digitigrade legs were stanced a equal length apart, and hands were brought up to straighten a (already straightened) collar. Once her tie was tugged firmly into place, only then did she stalk off, eyes firmly affixed on the little silhouette, shrouded in mist, at the very end of the pier.
There was another, larger figure there as well, but as much as she liked bantering with Mary-Anna, she wasn’t here for that. Sure enough, as she approached, the familiar colors of Misty's trademark black trench and Mary-Anna's distinct fishbone patterning sprung out to her.
Both cogs had been silent, content to simply stare out at sea next to each other. Only Misty turned as Holly approached, and once they registered who had joined their little party, their eyes had widened in shock.
“Oh- HOLLY!!” The shorter cog squealed, immediately jumping to their feet.
“I didn’t think you’d come, it was getting so late and I just really wanted-”
Something in her heart clenched at the admission. She hadn’t intended to keep her waiting, and she felt odd about having contributed to Misty's melancholy in any way at all.
However, she wasn’t the best with emotions, especially in times like these.
Slightly panicking, she held the neatly wrapped bundle she’d been holding, out to Misty.
She ignored Mary's barely stifled guffaws as she did so, and resolved to demand a duel later.
Mistys face widened in shock, their stream of anxious words completely petering out.
“Wh- For me?” they asked, incredulous.
Despite being a completely redundant and frankly ridiculous question, she nodded, choosing to keep her comments to herself.
She was rewarded with one of Misty's rare smiles, her hair brightening with excited, yellow lightning streaks.
“You’re so thoughtful Holly! Thank for you for-”
The other cog looked down bashfully, their expression and voice wobbling as they finished with a weak,
“Thanks for thinking of me.”
For a flickering moment, Holly fantasized about ripping Robert Cyger apart, limb from screaming limb, for having the sheer gall to isolate such a vibrant personality, forcing them to live on the scraps of comfort and hospitality from another.
“But of course. I would hope thou wouldst not consider me as to be so uncouth and inconsiderate.”
Misty giggled.
“Oh, I would never assume such a thing, especially not from a noble lady of your caliber.”
Her tone was odd, but seemed to be in good faith. A part of her reveled in Misty calling her such a title. Against her will, she hoofed at the ground. A little overwhelmed by her emotions, it seemed. Holly gestured at the bundle, and the other cog startled.
“Yes, right!”
Cautiously, Misty carefully undid the neat twine bow of the package, going to great lengths as to not disturb the gifts original packaging. When they caught Holly staring, they chuckled nervously.
“I like to keep it as a.. what do toons call it- oh! As a momento, a reminder of special occasions.”
The outer wrapping was then folded and put into their raincoat, which only left the tissue paper. She swore a bit as she struggled not to tear the delicate material, until she finally revealed the gift.
Misty gasped.
Sitting in the midst of tissue shrapnel, was a large, oversized rain coat. On the pockets, on the elbows, and on a large patch in the back, were patches, sewn into place with looping stitches, meant to represent the clouds of Misty's hair, with little raindrops and lightning bolts tucked under the arches as a way to add more visual interest. The patches themselves were yellow, and made quite the striking contrast against the dark blues of the coat. While the outside was hard, a shell meant to repel water, the inside of the yellow patches were soft, with fuzzy insides smushed in between both layers of fabric.
Holly had used scraps from a well-loved doublet of hers, along with some pieces from a pair of woolen, weather resistant tights shed kept from her old job, a uniform she’d kept around for nostalgia's sake. The rest of the coat was dark blue with bright blue accents, the electric blue a striking tone for the zipper, buttons, and parts of the coats lining.
The significance of the garment was not lost on misty.
Said cog was open mouthed gawking, so shocked she couldn't even think to cry from how thoughtful the gift was. Misty thumbed at one of the yellow patches, completely dumbfounded.
“Holly- is that your doublet?? From that one time when toons fuc- i mean, uh, goobered- all your uniforms??”
She nodded. She’d been forced to run around YOTT all day with it on, refusing to take the day off after a band of toons had dented her breastplate so bad it had to be sent in for repairs. Holly was thankful that Misty had remembered, having counted on her sentimental nature to recall such a small detail.
“Tis true.”
“Wow, its beautiful. You did such a great job!”
Misty looked up from the garment, to Holly. They seemed to weigh something in their mind, and after a second they pulled down the protective covering of their mask. It revealed that her jaw and head were clearly separated, the apparatus hinged in a way that would have made it extremely vulnerable to toon attacks had it just been left in the open. Misty smiled, crooked and wide. Hollys heart nearly seized as it revealed Misty had a tooth gap, the flaw endearing her even more to the other cog.
Misty’s voice, now unhampered from the thick cloth, rung out in the fog.
“Thank you again, Holly. I couldn’t have even dreamed up a better gift.”
The statement filled her with a massive feeling of pride, and palpable relief. Part of her had feared the worst, that she’d completely misread the other cog and their tendency for emotions and sentimentality. It was a foray into a field she was not familiar with, but it was high time she’d finally conquered this frontier as well.
Holly fidgeted again, before replying.
“Twas my pleasure. I am most relieved that it hath pleased you so.”
Misty giggled.
“I’d have to be crazy not to love it! Also..” They ducked their head, fidgeting with their raincoat restlessly.
“I know you're a very very busy cog, but me and Mary were going to go get some drinks after work to celebrate.”
She gestured frantically.
“Don’t feel obligated!! But, uh. The offers open if you're interested?” Misty finished nervously.
Holly wanted to bash her head into a wall. This amount of cuteness couldn’t be healthy for her. Despite knowing this, she still nodded.
“But of course. Merely send word my way of where we shalt meet, and I will be there.” She smoothly retrieved one of her many business cards from her crisp suit, and placed it in Misty’s pocket. A little forward, but she didn’t want to risk it blowing away in the wind.
Misty didn’t seem to mind at all, and only nodded frantically.
“I will!”
“Good. I regret to cut our time short, but duty calleth. Farewell, I shalt see thee soon.”
Holly paused.
“You too, Mary-Anna.”
At some point he’d gotten off the pier, and had taken to staring at the various wildlife swimming around in the water, up to the neck in the stuff himself.
“Huh? Oh, sea you later swordfish!”
Holly huffed.
“That’s not-”
“-Your name, I’m well aware.”
Mary-Anna waved at her dismissively.
“Go on, don’t let us keep you. You shorely need plenty of time to pick your clothes, after all.”
He sounded smug about something, and Holly’s ears flattened. Intent on not making a scene, she left, waving back to Misty before quickly heading back to YOTT to complete her duties.
===
At home, Holly’s doublet was neatly hung up in her closet. Patches of her yellow doublet had been replaced with dark blue accents, sewn in with electric blue thread. Her tights, which draped over another hanger, also sported the same fabric and embroidered edges.
After all, she couldn’t let such a thing go to waste, or so she told herself. Her heart said otherwise, but she paid it no mind, no mind at all.