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Sigh.
It was another sun-glazed scene. The air scattered with off-beat melodies, distant echoes, and talk of crowns and suits. It was hard to describe that mood for some folks. Like the bitter aftertaste of an overly-sugary candy, its taste lingering long after it should have been dissolved. A marching parade, whos cymbals and tambourines made from the bones and shackles of the past...
Meme looked up. Her name was pronounced mee-mee, yet she was often the subject of mockery in due to this.
Trash.
Failure.
By her side was her pet who had extended way beyond that. Despair wove through his little face like a string woven into blanket. "
You should stop." she said. despite being of no more than 2, meme was equally as clever to an aged peer. "If it doesn't fix anything it must be pointless."
Jevin nodded. he understood completely, or at least, told himself he did.
AU info ( non canon )
A sprunki was a small creature of varying colors that was no larger than a fingertip. They spoke in music, that's how they communicated. Similar to how flowers have scents meant to attract bees, their songs are so they can sing to earn candy, and thus live. Each one had a different voice, a different instrument, but you could never really know what it was from a glance. Only mr fun computer speaks English, but he just acts as a translator most of the time
Unless it was.....that one.
*That* one.
The one in the hat? The grueling stare? How about his friend?
his friend...
Jevin.
*groans quietly* "which one of us was the pet again?" Again. lorn with misery and rippling sadness "looks like someones got shakephere's spirit, huh?" *he didnt respond* suddenly he got up. "A paradox bewilders me"
"Do you think I have another chance? Even after all that, is there a way?"
"Therapy's always a way."
"T-that doesn't fix anything, meme..."
"I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!"
....
"Oh who am I kidding."
Jevin crawls up a table latching onto a climbing rope he made from floss, using a paperclip as a fastener. he spent most of his days away from his fellow sprunki because he knew he didn't fit with them. he knew they thought he was weird, creepy, even outright terrified of him. And he sure is terrified of that thought.
...
The lovely table spread painted with lemons and other citrus leaves waved him hello. It was as almost as if the sparkling glasses and fruit baskets had welcomed him to the upper layer of the room, since this was the apartment where a famous traveling band lived, alongside them, the colorful pests. Jevin made sure to get up early in the morning every day and hear their songs to refine his own. That's not what he was looking for today, so he wove past the delicate glasswares until he approached a sharp silver lock that had been left on the table, adjacent to a door halfway open. Then he slits himself against the sharp lock as blood starts pooling out.
A muddy stain against the crisp linen backdrop, a puddle of everlasting mourn as he tries to find something to cover it up, fueled with regret.
As he looked at his reflection in the glass, aside from his broken pale face, he saw a hazed sky and soft, puffy clouds. An average Tuesday morning, as he was hiding in the rim of a car window. Then it happened, a human spotted him. Funbot, doing as told, had always warned the others, including his creators garnold and could, to steer clear of humans, it took only a slam of their hand to put them to an end. But jevin felt...odd. as if he was being pulled towards them, curious of such a creature. as he goes back to pry himself against the sharp lock edges again to finish off his little salle-de-coup, he recalls a distant memory..........a happy one. the sense of a human palm cradling him like a teensy little insect, and nestling it in a small fabric of wonder, "pocket" they say. Jarbled with the coziest of nonsense and noise. Jevin replayed that scene numerous times before approaching the cold steel lock, used to fasten the living room doors to their crutches, and now him to both. "yes pain did follow, but can it cancel out another woe?"
he never wanted to leave but was flung out on accident. he knew he would never forget that day.
As the memory started to subside, he found meme searching in a nearby Tupperware case for some napkin, hopefully an unused one, to use as gauze.
Actually, both of them thought the other was just a figment of their imagination, a character made to mirror their own deep-rooted troubles, yet for jevin this story was far more convincing. his dying wish was to at least learn that humans name before he left the roster for good.
"You came?"
"yeah. of course. crybaby."
That hit harder than it should have. For a creature ever so small and incapable of complete thought, he felt it shouldn't have been that much. But he did, he sooo did.
Meme, as she was intelligent, quickly learned the musical language, learning to detect every subtle shift in pitch as grammar and tone as syntax. Slowly but surely, the jumbled melodies started to make sense, like fog clearing off the horizon. But for him, it just made him even more broken. he cries as she unwraps the tissue roll. he knew that, like all others, she would soon leave him in search of more positive experiences. Had it not, had it not, had it not....
as she wraps the gauze around his little body, jevin asks her, swollen with tears, if he can bite into the sweet pear from across the table. Meme cautions against it, using the human's potential insight into their perturbance as justification. But oh, once you've seen so much, or even just as much as him, fear basically eradicates. Not because you've "overcome it" or "became strong" but because it simply isn't a threat anymore. "What is there even to fear left?" he thought. Monsters? No. Darkness? No. Loss? Please. he had seen it all. it was just a cold-colored hurdle to him. But he chose to listen to Meme anyway, because he saw no value in rebellion either.
As Meme was cleaning up the mess he made, he remembered something else. The cult. The cult he never wanted to be a part of.
At first it was a joke. The funny guy in the monopoly hat, casting "tanny granny spells on the hickory dickory dock" that basically meant mounting witchery into the places of commoners. The reluctance would've been his up-in-corner hero, if he had just grabbed its hand. But no, apparently vials and cauldrons were more appealing. Appealing to him, anyway, not to Sky who had already been busy sewing stitches on plushies, and the more honorable tunner whose gun wielded purpose, not pessimism. "Is my circle really that small?" he thought again, but hes also rambling again, because that
wasn't
the
point.
No one likes cults. No one wants that reputation. It drove people away, simply put. Every. Single. Time.
And you could EVEN make it worse
as if it ALREADY WASN'T WORSE!
people talked about it for days.
It had all happened when he accidentally let the humans know of where they were. That's when this entire agony started. From that day onward, he knew he was just an infection to this landscape. A bug in the software. So he did the obvious and stayed close by with the only other person who could understand that feeling-but even he just cared more about getting the job done rather than sticking by. It was too much. Way too much. But there really wasn't anything left to do now, right?
right....
right. If only he was never made
Things would be easier.
he wouldnt be such a
curse.
if it hadn't been cast before.
"Your friends are here!" Meme said in a painstakingly cheerful voice. She never really liked holding onto weight for that long.
he scoffed. They were anything but friends. All of them. he desperately wanted to jump off the table but scooted on over the greet the silhouette that had climbed the table with him.
( To be continued)