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Ragatha, thankfully, doesn't get torn up as often as she once did in the circus. So, on the rare occasion when she happened to catch a corner and come away with a tear, she didn't mind taking the time to mend it herself. Not that it mattered, as Caine could reset her player model at any time. But it was nice having a little project to tend to every once in a while. She would embroider patterns along the new seams, green vines in split stitches decorated with red and blue flowers in satin stitches, intricately filling the space where the wound on her skin once was. Then Caine would reset her, the thoughtfully dressed wound no more. Ragatha didn't mind, though— the little decorated scars reminded her of the temporary tattoos she would press onto her arms as a child, hiding them away from Mama's prying eyes under bell-sleeved dresses.
Having spent so much time being so touchy and feely with her beloved jester, the pair had become acutely aware of the fact that certain seams of hers were... sensitive. The little stitches along her hands, the dip at the base of her neck, the space where her arms met her chest— Pomni's hands had mapped them all out expertly. The seam joining the anterior and posterior of her torso, right below where her ribs would be (if she had any) was a spot that Pomni particularly loved to abuse during their roughhousing. That one always elicited the best squeals, according to the jester. Apparently there was a similar simulated sensation when she wasn't the one sewing herself back together. How was she supposed to know this would happen? In all of her time in the circus, she was the only one to take up the task, if Caine wasn't present to fix her up. But then there was Pomni. Her compassionate, selfless, little hero. She just had to help.
Ragatha looked as if she had just run a marathon. Her face flushed deep, breaths labored, her eye wide. Pomni's eyes were just as wide, needle still threaded through Ragatha's wound.
"You okay, baby?" Pomni finally manages in a careful whisper.
The noise that had burst out of Ragatha the moment prior was something Pomni had never heard from her girlfriend before. A shriek somewhere between a startled cry and a giddy cackle. If not for the grin on the rag doll's lip, she'd be concerned to the point of nauseousness.
"Yeah! Yeah," Ragatha quickly puffs back, "I just wasn't expecting that!" She lets loose another breathless chuckle, fanning her face with a mitt. "That was... interesting!"
"It didn't hurt though, right?" Pomni leans in, her concern only growing.
"No!" Another hasty reply, eager to tamp down any of Pomni's worries, "no, sweetheart, I'm fine. I promise." The rag doll finally manages to steady her breath, her smile still wide. "It just sorta..." She purses her lip, searching for the right word. It was an odd sensation, one that had become very familiar to her in recent days. Like a surge of electricity coursing through her cotton, the errant twitch of a loose thread against her neck, an itch rippling across her fabric skin that couldn't be scratched. It kinda... sorta... "...tickled." She finally concludes, grinning sheepishly down at the jester sitting beside her on her fluffy floral comforter.
Pomni's anxious expression gradually morphs, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "Sooo," she drawls, smirk growing, "you want me to keep going...?"
Ragatha knows that look by now, the glint in her eyes and the tug of her lip. She wants to play.
There’s a beat, and Pomni falters, "I-if it's easier for you to do it—"
"No!" The rag doll cuts in again. She’d be lying if she said she didn't want to play too. "P-please, you can do it, i-if you don't mind," she can't help the lilt in her voice as she nods eagerly.
Pomni's expression softens, touched that Ragatha would allow her the opportunity. She quickly shifts gears, though— the two women each taking a moment to prepare for what was to come next. Pomni shuffles close once more, determined to return to her task. The wound wasn't too deep, just a small tear just below her wrist, no longer than a finger's length. One of the jester's hands reaches to hold her mitt, gently steadying the doll. The other approaches with the needle as if she were defusing an Australian extremist's bomb. Her big, bug eyes can't help but not so subtly flick back and forth between her task and the rag doll's face.
"Tell me if it's too much, okay?" Pomni whispers as she readies the needle.
Ragatha breathes a noise of agreement with a curt nod.
Pomni's hand steadying her strokes her palm reassuringly, the other experimentally pressing her fingers near the tear. Ragatha flinches, and the jester instinctively utters an apology, just to be met with a quick and quiet reassurance from her rag doll that it was, in fact, okay. They take a deep breath in tandem as the needle dives, then breaches the fabric. All the preparation in the world couldn't stop the squeak that escapes her, accompanied by a squirm. Pulling the thread taut didn't seem to give the rag doll much reprieve, as her eye flies shut, teeth gritted in a screwy smirk.
Pomni stops dead. "You okay?"
"Y-yeah! I'm fine," her voice warbles as she chuckles, her smile reassuring the jester.
Slowly Pomni resumes her work, her eyes only leaving the rag doll to align the point, then flicking back up to watch her face. The needle dives and breaches once more, and the cacophony of strangled noises and twitches continue. Again and again, with each new stitch, Ragatha's composure steadily becomes undone, her smile bright and heat slowly creeping across her felt face.
"You're cute," Pomni pauses to comment through her smirk.
"O-oh, y-you think so?" Ragatha titters incredulously as the needle pulls the thread through her fabric, her free hand fanning her furnace of a face.
"I know so," the jester hums as she grazes a thumb across the embroidery, earning her another cute squeak.
A sharp exhale quickly becomes a earnest guffaw, a twitch becomes a more forceful jerk. Pomni was enamored, eager to hear all the cute noises and see all the cute faces her rag doll could make. Her laughter was infectious, as it always was— with every squeak, squawk, and snort that slipped out of the rag doll, the jester's own smile and laughter grew; the two quickly falling into smiley, giggly, feedback loop.
"There," Pomni finally sighs as she sits back to inspect her handiwork.
The stitching was sloppy, due in part to Ragatha's squirming, and the other part being that Pomni was distracted by said squirming. But Ragatha loved it. A golden vine climbing up her arm, adorned with lovely lavender flowers. Although they looked more like purple blobs, if you didn't know what they were supposed to be.
"It's beautiful Pomni," the rag doll smiles softly, admiring the newly embroidered seam, "thank you."
"Thank you for letting me help," Pomni takes her hand in her own, careful not to touch the seam, "sorry it, uh... doesn't look any good."
"I think it's perfect," Ragatha dips forward, pressing a quick kiss to the jester's cheek.
Pomni grins, face suddenly flushed as she slowly leans back in, pressing a feather-light kiss against her needlework, earning a gasp from the rag doll. Mouth hovering over the spot, she glances up, questioning. Ragatha returns her look with a sly smirk. She wants to play. Pomni is happy to oblige, peppering more kisses along the vine, Ragatha's laughter swelling with each peck.
"Okay, okay!" Ragatha squeaks through a particularly shrill trill of giggles.
But Pomni doesn't let up, her lips wandering their way up her arm, eventually making a home in the crook of Ragatha's neck.
"Pomni!" The rag doll whines, but she doesn't fight back as the two tumble back onto the bedspread, Pomni ever unrelenting.
Ragatha finally summons the strength to throw her arms around the jester, rousing her.
"Sorry," Pomni snickers, clearly not sorry, "was I too much?"
"You? Never," Ragatha counters coolly through her labored breaths, planting another kiss against the jester's cheek.
Pomni chuckles quietly, burying herself further into the rag doll's embrace. The two lie there for a moment, trying to steady their breathing. Eventually Ragatha's eye catches the color on her skin, turning her wrist to admire Pomni's work. The jester in question was already sound asleep against her chest, and Ragatha, eye suddenly heavy, wasn't far behind. All that smiling and laughing really takes it out of you, apparently. Returning her hand to hold her jester, she sighs, eye lulling shut. Her last thought before drifting off being to ask Caine to let her keep this very special gift the next time she asks to be reset.