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The lack of limitations on their digital avatars was often a point of discussion amongst the trapped circus members. Holding your breath making your body do weird things, the stretch and squash capabilities, the hammerspace - it was all so strange to think about now that they've all lived through it enough to understand. Their minds prior wouldn't have grasped how it would feel to be a rubber hose creation with no bones or joints to be concerned with. Sure, pain was still a large factor of their lives. Caine could do a lot of manipulating of the system but some things simply couldn't be adjusted.
What truly became startling was the uncanny feeling of something so familiar and yet not. Of grass beneath your feet except it's not real grass, it's what a computer believes grass is meant to be. Of simulated foods with tastes included but they’re slightly off, going exclusively off of how they're described in a way that creates the same flat taste for everyone regardless of personal preferences.
It was a line of thought Zooble often found themself following every time they 'woke up'. Sleeping didn't even feel the same, a disorienting buzz in the back of their head that was fully aware that this whole thing was nothing more than a charade so Caine's precious dolls didn't abstract and need thrown out. An endless cycle of fabricated sensations and fake obstacles to give everyone something else to think about besides the passage of time and their lost lives.
Today.. today was different, though.
Instead of following their usual routine - ( wake up, bemoan life, root through their zooble box, find nothing that fits right and just throw on whatever since they're gonna avoid caine's adventure anyway) - they were interrupted by a knock at the door. With their moping time cut shoot, Zooble had nothing else to do besides get today started with.
Opening the door they were surprised to find a lack of purple fur and annoying grin, instead greeted by a hesitantly smiling mask and nervous ribbons bunching over themselves. When they just stared at Gangle the woman shifted, peering back down the hallway before speaking. "Zooble.. can I ask a favor?"
They blinked. Gangle just fidgeted, gaze darting from Zooble's face to the ground, down the hallway, and back to their face. It took a moment for them to comprehend what she wanted, mind still lagging from their rest. The door swung open a little wider, and before Zooble could really speak there was a rush of fabric as Gangle darted in. Whatever's got her ribbons in a bunch must be pretty serious, they mused. She usually took some coaxing before finally allowing herself to accept the invitation of coming into their room.
Shutting the door and clicking the lock for extra measure, Zooble gestured to the bed. "What's up?" They asked, deciding they may as well get started on rooting through their spare parts. The box was supposedly never-ending and yet all too often they found themself tossing aside parts too familiar to ones they’re already fond of or ones that simply didn’t fit the day’s vibe. Such was the case with their earring today, the feeling of it in their plastic head genuinely grating.
She’d wanted to hide from Caine to avoid returning to the adventure and knew he often left Zooble alone. At some point they must’ve zoned Gangle out, her explanation a background droning as they rooted through their box. Something with Jax, something with Ragatha, Pomni said this, and now her mask was broken. Normally they were fine with listening to her vent, clinging to every word like honey and yet right now they couldn’t recall anything. That persistent itch to find their look for the day overrode all other priorities.
This wasn’t usually a problem. The feeling often started small and grew over time like a pot brought to a boil. Little bubbles of discomfort here, little wisps of steamy hatred of themself there. The usual. But it must’ve been building for a while, the repetition of each day droning in their head even down to their friend visiting. They loved Gangle, god did they love her , but they did not hear a word she was saying over the steadily rising rush of noise in their head.
With each discarded limb Zooble grew more frustrated. Too flashy, too curvy, too robot . Nothing was working. Even forcing a pair of antennae on their head had them ripping the offending objects out and throwing them at the box. If it wasn’t for this stupid body in this stupid circus then they’d be fine . Better! Happier! Back in their own damn body that they can’t even remember in their life they made for themself! Away from the torture of Caine’s stupid adventures, of Jax’s annoying voice and the threat of abstraction looming above them all like some kind of fucking anvil from a cartoon -!
Smooth silk curled around their left arm and Zooble jerked away with a strangled gasp. Their chest shook with the phantom thrumming of a heart they no longer possessed. Gangle stood still, arm still stretched from where she’d touched them, mouth open in a soft ‘o’.
“Go,” Zooble hissed, trembling as they scrambled backwards. She couldn’t see them like this. They wouldn’t allow themself to break, not if it put her in danger. “Gangle, leave! ” But she didn’t move, those familiar tears dangling in her eyes as she stepped forward. Each attempt to create distance was countered with steps that grew more certain until their back pressed against the wall.
Why wasn’t she running? Surely she could see the way Zooble wavered, felt the dissonance in the air, the threat of danger that buzzed against their plastic skin. She should be finding Caine, getting the others to safety and letting him lock them in his cellar with the other abominations.
“Zooble?” Gangle’s soft voice sounded like a roar in their ears. They stubbornly avoided her gaze, eyes darting across the mismatched patterns decorating their personalized prison. A streak of red drew their attention as Gangle slowly waved her arm in front of them. It was mesmerizing, the flow of the ribbon and the way she manipulated it. It reminded them of those ribbon dancers you often saw with the gymnastic competitions, coils of red woven through the air with a practiced control that even Zooble envied.
It wasn’t the same, Gangle’s own ribbon doing a simple wave and the occasional twirl, but it did what it needed to. So distracted by the movements, Zooble hadn’t noticed that Gangle had crept closer, approaching like one would a cornered animal. It wasn’t until that feeling of silk on their skin came again but this time without feeling like they wanted to peel their own plastic casing off. They leaned into the touch on their face, eyes fluttering as a wave of exhaustion hit them.
Their thoughts hadn’t calmed, though. A hive of hideous criticisms buzzed in their head even as Gangle’s other hand curled behind their head and pulled them into a hug. Trembling hands grasped at her ribbon torso and pulled her close as they failed to hide their choked back sobs. This was pathetic. They couldn’t pull themself together over - what? Not finding an accessory they liked? They almost abstracted over their appearance? What a moron. Maybe they deserved this.
Zooble tried to pull away, to push Gangle away, to stifle their noises - anything . Whatever would free them of this embarrassment, of being seen vulnerable and scared and un-Zooble-like . They were meant to be cool and aloof, avoidant of everyone and uncooperative in Caine’s bullshit. So why were they clinging to Gangle like she was some kind of lifeline? Like if she left they would float off into the stars and spend eternity with the one person they hated more than anyone; themself.
“I’ve got you,” She said. Zooble’s grip tightened at the comforting voice despite the disgust they felt at being coddled. More ribbons wound around them, gentle feather-light caresses followed by a firm squeeze every few moments. It felt like a heartbeat. They wanted nothing more than to hear it for real.
It took much longer than they’d like to admit before they felt relatively stable enough to lean away from the tangled web of support ribbons Gangle had woven around them. They once again avoided her gaze and she let them, resting her mask atop their antennae-less head. The lack of pressure to explain themself was welcomed greatly as they grounded themself with weaving a loose ribbon between chunky yellow fingers, their dexterity from tattooing lost alongside whatever sense of self they’d finally gotten before being ripped away.
Only when they felt confident that their voice wouldn’t waver did they speak. “.. Thank you.” Gangle’s response was a simple hum that reverberated through her coils in a way that was almost ticklish, had they still had the capabilities of being so. They folded the ribbon, rolling it up and watching it unfurl and sway lazily like a cat’s tail. It was cute. It reminded them of their own cat back home. Hopefully she was doing alright, that someone was taking care of her.
Although Gangle seemed content to let the quiet stretch, Zooble felt that aggravating itch of guilt begin to pool, that need to explain and justify whatever the hell just happened to them. And, well. They wanted to tell her. If anyone else were to know about Zooble’s problems, they’d prefer it to be Gangle.
“I.. don’t..,” They spoke slow, considering their words carefully to figure out how best to preserve their already broken reputation. “.. Like. Anything about me.” Their bindings tightened though that mask never moved from atop their head. If they closed their eyes they could almost imagine they were back home in their therapist’s office. It brought a surprising comfort that they didn’t expect. “All these.. Parts. I hate them. Nothing feels good, and I just fall apart at every mild inconvenience. Even with infinite options I still feel like I’m not good enough, just an ugly mess of parts nobody else wanted.”
Their head gave a dull thunk as it hit the wall, Gangle’s mask pulling back to avoid being cracked. They could feel her stare even with their eyes closed. Even her ribbons had slowed in their calming waves. They knew they should’ve kept their mouth shut. Who tells the literal ribbon with breakable happiness about their body problems? Apparently Zooble.
They expected the slide of silk to disappear, for her to pull back and retreat now that she finally scratched the surface of just how broken they were. What they didn’t anticipate was the way her grip tightened, curling around the connective joints almost protectively. “It’s okay to fall apart, Zooble,” She said softly, slotting her mask beneath their triangle head. Her ribbons continued that comforting pulse, a mimicry of a heartbeat that both longed to have again. “I can put you back together when you’re ready.”
Something about that struck them. “When you’re ready.” They didn’t have to be ready constantly. They could break. They could crumble. Gangle would wait for them. She would hand them their pieces and help string them back together. Their eyes burned as tears welled and they willed them back with a shuddery sigh.
They stroked her back, holding tightly to the ribbon still tangled with her other hand. “I don’t deserve you.” They watched as she pulled back, expression delightfully smug as she met their gaze.
“Well. You got me.”