“Why Did You Keep Looking For Me?” Lightning Demanded, The Harsh Confusion In Her Tone Would've Come

I am not meant for casual love. I was born for soul consuming love and obsession.

This shot ✨

A crunch beneath his boot stopped Pinocchio in his tracks, his curious gaze dropping down to see a small bloodied music box, a note or two of its chime playing as it was disturbed. The lid lay open, a mirror inside reflecting the edges of the clouds above, tinted in a multitude of dusky oranges and yellows during the last remains of daylight.

To the right stood a shelf full of similar music boxes lined together under a sign detailing how many tickets each would cost to own. Some were decorated with images of happy clowns, their strange colored hair and exaggerated faces a symbol of the eccentric entertainment the park offered. Others bore images of dogs and cats, graceful ballerinas and daring gymnasts.

This was just one of many collections of prizes he’d come across since entering the park. The further he’d explored, the more the upset from his previous battle with the Stalkers distanced from him.

He bent at the knees and grabbed the box he’d stepped on, slow to notice its frail condition, so willed an uncommon gentleness to his legion arm when a piece broke off and returned to the ground. The lid fell shut with a snap as the puppet held it up close to inspect, a pleased lift in his spirit when it revealed to sport a cat design. What a shame for the tabby’s face to be hidden by splatters of red though..

To rectify that disheartening find, he tugged the edge of his sleeve over the pad of his palm and gingerly wiped away what he could, none will notice the additional stain among copious amounts of blood covering his clothes anyhow, fresh and wet in a manner he attempted to believe didn’t bother him.

Dwelling on discomfort he’d prefer to rid himself of wouldn’t do, if for nothing else than a refusal to let it steal a second of passing leisure he seldom earned.

He worked his brain to remember how to make the song play. Lady Antonia once played a music box in her study for him, promising to locate sheet music she’d stashed away in a drawer somewhere to later teach him the piano rendition. He weaved through the memory until the part came where she’d turned a tiny crank in a circle, then shifted the trinket to repeat the motion himself.

His hand stilled at the empty hole where the crank should be, and his eyes flicked back to his feet, scanning for the missing piece in pebbles of gravel stone. Regrettably, it had either traveled too far or kept a strong wish to remain hidden. Pinocchio’s shoulders slumped just a bit.

Another, more intact box on the shelf could be chosen, but some part of him was reluctant to abandon the one he held. It was damaged, yes, and the white paint still clung to a faint shade of red, but it was resilient too. The puppet admired the devices eagerness to play when his shoe had stressed it, determined to incite joy despite the misfortune faced, and the striped cat on the lid didn’t seem affected by what it had been through either, pawing gleefully at a purple ball of yarn.

He did spare a thought that the sense he was meant to meet this specific one tread on irrationality, only a fleeting acknowledgement however, not enough to prevent him swiping a crank from one of the shelved trinkets and slotting it into the vacant space.

It clicked in perfectly, as if it were the original. He gave it a few delicate turns, his eyes sliding closed to listen while the song played out in full. There was no familiarity in what he heard, but the jolly tune claimed a spot for itself among the songs he’d come to enjoy the most. He turned it again to listen once more, then another when the notes tapered to an end.

The sky above grew darker as the warmth of sunset began to weaken, taking on a somber blue hue. Strings of lights on the distant Ferris wheel flickered with an effort to illuminate the oncoming nightfall, yet pitifully failed as a result of the destruction done to them, fading to a dull glow that did little to accomplish their purpose or going out completely and blending in with the rest of the dying day.

Pinocchio fantasized about what the park might’ve been like before the puppets tore the city to ruin, he’d only come to life after their attack was well into effect. But even with the carnage that marred the area it was clear it had once been beautiful, a place where one could be carefree and adventurous, take in the extravagant sights and try their hand at playing games for the chance of a memento to take home. Inwardly, he hoped when his task was completed and each attraction repaired he could visit again, to see for himself if the beauty his imagination conjured possessed any accuracy. 🎭🦋

// If you're interested in the song I had in mind, there's a video on YouTube by mrspuick titled: Porcelain Roses on a Music Box-plays "Everything is beautiful"

"I found this in a chocolate shop, the owners must have run away when the puppet frenzy began," Pinocchio explained, holding a heart shaped box of fine gourmet chocolates, adorned with a red silk bow, in a trembly hand. "I've seen people giving these to others around Krat today, so I wanted to give one to you."

Though obviously trying to will himself confidence, he seemed a bit shy of doing so. Like many things the sly brunette kept inside, perhaps he knew more than what he let on about the meaning of Valentine's Day, the notion of which stirred the butterflies in your stomach all the way to your fingertips as you accepted his gift.

"How kind of you! Thank you, P." You said with a grateful smile, trying to calm your swift beating heart.

He smiled back in that sweet way he does, gave a polite bow and began to take his leave before you stopped him. "Wait!" You called hastily, and he obliged, turning to look at you again, his head tilted in interest as he waited for what more you had to say. "I made something for you too." You admitted and showed what you'd kept hidden behind your back. It was becoming easier to understand his shyness, your nerves akin to a rabbit in the road as you revealed it.

His eyes lit up at the intricate metal box of chocolates, moulded into the shape of a heart, painstakingly crafted by your own hand at your bench whenever you knew he'd be away long enough for the surprise not to be spoiled by a glimpse of it. The project had taken every bit of talent you've built over years of practice and working with metal, and the care you'd put into it showed that very well.

The box was a work of art. A shining antique gold finish, accessorized by little iron gears soldered in clusters onto the top and sides of the heart. A pattern of roses melted in rose-gold, the most difficult and time consuming part of the design, starred at the center, with the words 'For Pinocchio, with love' etched daintily above the symbolic flowers.

The shock on his face was rather cute in how genuine it was, and it filled you with pride to have been such a successful sneak, it was clear he'd never expected you to reciprocate the gesture. "You...made this? For me?" He asked, the surprise that you'd go to this amount of effort apparent in his voice as he carefully took the box from your outstretched hand.

"Of course I did silly boy, do you see anyone else I'm handing it to?" You chuckled, amused.

"So there's...no one else you'd rather give it to then?" The question was quiet and tentative now, seeking confirmation that you intended to celebrate a day for lovers with him alone, that there wasn't another vying for your affections, he most certainly was aware of what this day meant. Your heartbeat all but roared in your ears once you realized that.

With courage you weren't aware you had, you stepped closer and kissed his cheek softly, placing your hand on his to feel it tighten around the precious metalwork he held. "No one else, that's why I put your name on it."

If the puppet possessed the blood required to blush, his face may rival the bow tied to the confections he'd given you. An affliction that would only worsen as he leaned forward and returned the kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you, ____, I'm fortunate to receive such a thoughtful gift from one so lovely as you." He said, his expression tender, a look of pure adoration velveting his eyes.

And just like that, it was you who matched the red bow almost too perfectly, right down to the knots your nerves were so skillfully tied in.

// Happy Valentine's Day, from a puppet to you. 🦋

I wrote this in honor of the nights I spent in the dark, just the moon and myself. (And the occasional cat that would join me)

Boy has puppy eyes.

"Spring, please come down from there." Pinocchio pleaded with the feline, worried that the reckless thing would fall from the high key rack it had decided to take a nap on. He tended to forget that cats always landed on their feet, able to meet the ground with ease from a relatively long fall.

The orange cat purred with disinterest, stretching after his interrupted snooze to only half regard the puppet below.

"Come on now, please?" Pinocchio asked again, holding out his arms to beckon the animal to him.

Spring gave him as unimpressed of a look as a cat could manage, dangling his squishy pink paws over the side as if to taunt him. He had no intentions of leaving this spot. As far as he was concerned, it was now a throne made specifically for him.

From here, he could easily watch anyone who passed by in their daily tasks around the hotel, perfect entertainment for such a lazy being. It was also much warmer than his designated bed provided by Lady Antonia, the height allowing him to take advantage of the heat that rose from the fireplaces which kept the hotel from being as frigid as the weather outside.

And what's best, he could refuse any and all petting until he was ready to accept them on his own terms. Meaning that by the same token, he was able to tease the little puppet to his devious hearts content.

Pinocchio sighed, placing a hand on his hip and tapping his foot in irritation. "I was going to give you a treat too you know, but I suppose you don't want it." He said, turning and beginning to walk away.

Spring's ears perked up at the word 'treat’. His favorite word, if he had to pick just one. His short nap was instantly forgotten as he leapt from his perch and landed with a thump on the floor, following the puppet and loudly meowing his sincere apologies. He hadn't meant it, honest. Only a little teasing and then he would have mercy. It's a cats job after all, they were supposed to make people work for affection. He deserves a reward in that case, right?

Pinocchio concealed a knowing smirk by looking straight ahead, continuing to walk down the hall and partly ignoring Spring. "A shame, they were really tasty ones, so I hear, tuna flavored." He lamented in a tone of fake disappointment, glancing down out of the corner of his eye at the increasingly excited feline.

"You like that kind, don't you Spring?"

Of course he liked them! Didn't this silly boy know fish was a cats favorite thing in the whole world? A delicacy, the likes of which has never had a worthy competitor?

The orange tabby meowed louder, the sound echoing through the halls as he tried to convey his want for the treat he almost foolishly passed up. When the puppet didn't slow or even spare him another glance, Spring decided to take drastic measures and hastened his pursuit. His paws made quick little taps on the tile floor as he trotted ahead of him, forcing him to stop at the risk of stepping on him.

Pinocchio halted the descent of his boot just in time to avoid it coming down on Springs long tail. The cat meowed innocently and stood on its haunches to press its front paws onto his thighs, looking up at him with wide, shining eyes that begged for what was promised.

And though the puppets heart had proven quite devious in its own right, it caved to the adorable creatures antics rather quickly. "Oh alright, you can have just one." He relented, reaching into his pocket and tugging out a small pouch, then tipping it over and shaking it until four fishy kibbles fell into his palm.

Kneeling down, he held his hand out and gestured with his fingers for the other to take them. "Here you go."

Spring gave a quick meow of gratitude and purred as he ate the treats from the boys hand, relishing in the delicious flavor that would surely leave him craving more for days to come. This had most certainly been worth the unplanned exercise.

Once every crumb was gobbled up, he sat and cleaned his paws despite the fact they hadn't been dirtied during his snack. A cat must have proper etiquette too, of course.

Pinocchio smiled and reached out with the intent of petting the top of Springs head, only to gasp and jerk back in surprise as the finicky feline flattened its ears and hissed its displeasure.

While Spring had happily agreed to treats, he had done no such thing with pets.

He stood as the cat pointedly turned its chin up and began to walk away, a sass to its gait as it headed back in the direction of an eagerly awaiting second nap.

Another discouraged sigh left the confused puppet. "Why are you so mean to me.." He said, more to himself since he expected the tabby to be ignoring him already. "Next time I will tell you they're tuna, but they'll really be liver."

Spring stopped briefly in shock and hissed again, more vicious than the previous one, then dashed the rest of the way to the lobby as if to escape the very idea of such a wicked betrayal. 🎭🐈