| Sewing |
[12 Jul 2003|02:00am] |
Title: Sewing
Author: Yuuki Miyaka
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Pairing or POV: Nagi/Aya
Written for: petermaxwell
Special Note: Because when I asked, he told me what to write.
It was easier than it looked, Nagi thought, glaring at the offending bits of fabric. The website he'd found helped some, but actual sewing still felt foreign. Even then, parts had been easy. The body was simply a cutout, sewn together and stuffed carefully. The clothing had taken longer, because Nagi took ages to settle on who to make. It had to be someone from his life, of course. Otherwise, what was the point? Ultimately, it was the latest mission that had given him the idea.
The needle slipped through the pieces of material by itself, Nagi's concentration and power guiding it. No risked fingers this way, which didn't really matter overly much for a telekinetic. But he didn't particularly like pain, so avoiding pricked fingers was good. He'd been trying to think of what to clothe the naked doll in for some time when Schuldig's words caught him, the mental question catching him off-guard.
**They haunt you, don't they? Those eyes of his...** Only that, and Nagi had desperately refused to answer. The telepath stole the response anyway, as Nagi had expected, and the resultant nasal chuckle had followed him to bed the night before. But the words haunted him just as the eyes had, and he considered carefully before piecing together the outfit in his mind. He'd had to go out that afternoon to buy more fabric, but seeing the doll take shape, he wasn't displeased.
Watching the needle put the finishing touches on the outfit, he measured it again against the naked doll and smiled. Perfect. Without touching the soft toy, he clothed it, then considered. The website had some wonderful suggestions about how to handle the hair, but even so, it was going to take a while to prepare it. With a sigh, he sat the bald toy aside. It looked wrong, somehow, that outfit with no hair, and he snickered. No face, either, but the face could come last, when he'd found the perfect color of thread for the eyes.
That night, he dreamt of those eyes again, the clear jewel-tones descending into the darkness of passion. Sex had been on his mind far too much lately, threatening to take over everything... even this. Or was it something deeper?, he wondered, as those darkened eyes softened. Imaginary arms surrounded him, holding him close in a cuddle, and Nagi bolted up, panting as he tried to catch his breath.
**Strange phobias, little boy,** Schuldig taunted. **You'd almost think you wanted him. He'd as soon kill you as kiss you... though if you're really good, you could probably manage both.**
**Fuck off, Schuldig,** he replied, glaring as he read the directions on how to attach the hair.
He'd have to redo the doll... Damn...
Unsewing the doll proved distressingly easy for him. He did it immediately, not wanting to be taunted by the half-finished product until he could find the eye-thread. The outfit was examined for perfection, and then laid aside. That, at least, was completed.
Getting the hair and eyes right was much more difficult, and lasted until the day after their next assignment. Another attack they had to defend against, another chance to look into those cold, angry eyes. Schuldig had been right... those eyes did haunt him. But with only memory to go on, they'd faded somewhat, becoming a more muted tone of the true vibrancy he now saw. He knew the name of that color, had seen it just that morning at the thread shop.
He was almost smiling as they got back to the apartment, and even Schuldig's taunts couldn't phase him. **Why him?** the German asked, honestly puzzled.
Nagi smiled a cold, predatory smile. **Because he's who I want.**
**Then why the doll? Why not just take him?**
**Because, Schuldig... eventually he'll come to me willingly.** He wasn't sure if it was the conviction in his tone, or the simple confusion over why, but Schuldig didn't ask again.
He obtained the thread the next day and immediately went to work. It was slow going for the telekinetic. He began with the face on a separate cloth until he could get it right. That took nearly two weeks right there, and he had to pay careful attention. He knew that Crawford and Farfarello wondered what he was doing, expected Schuldig to tell them. But the telepath seemed to derive more enjoyment out of occasionally teasing him.
**What is that color, anyway, little boy?** Schuldig asked at one point, fingering the thread for the eyes. Nagi glanced up, and the thread shot across the room into his hand.
**Aubergine,** he answered shortly, setting the thread down and going back to the real face.
**Fancy name,** Schuldig laughed, moving to sprawl on his bed. Nagi lifted his head, glaring at the telepath in a clear demand for him to leave. As usual, Schuldig ignored it. **What's it mean, anyway?**
**Eggplant, Schuldig. It's an English word for Eggplant.** He managed to sound put upon, as though he hadn't had to look up the information himself. With anyone else, it might've worked, but Schuldig only laughed at him again, lacing his fingers behind his head and watching as Nagi worked.
The hair was a pain, thread strands knotted and pulled once through the fabric to simulate real hair, far too long for the owner of the true mane. Once they were all through, he'd trim it into a passable facsimile of the real style. He'd wait until right after another encounter, so that he had the style fresh in his mind. Like the eyes, he was afraid that the memory had warped or faded slightly, despite Schuldig's almost constant teasing.
The hoped-for encounter came just as he'd finished applying the last of the hair. It was difficult to keep his mind on things when he was trying to examine the hair-style from all sides, just to make sure he got it right. Even Crawford noticed, although the precognitive only stared coldly at Nagi when everything was over. Nagi ignored the stare, heading back to his room to snip away the unneeded bits of thread.
He wasn't surprised when Schuldig dropped down onto his bed heavily, watching the proceedings with interest. **Silk thread... I'm jealous, little boy.** Nagi rolled his eyes. **What would you use for my hair, if that doll were me?** Laughter in the mental voice. Nagi hated the laughter.
He looked up at Schuldig, saw the way the telepath was combing one hand through his thick, flame-red locks, and an evil smile stretched Nagi's lips. **I'd use wool yarn, Schuldig. Anything else would be too soft.**
That got rid of him.
Nagi smirked at the door as it slammed shut, then looked down at the fabric in his hand. All that was left was to stitch the doll back up, to stuff it and close it completely, then dress it. He ran his finger down the cheek, then grinned. Well... maybe one more step.
Nagi picked up the stuffing, smelling it and grinning. The treatment had worked. He closed his eyes, remembering the way the assassin had looked as he'd worked in that stupid flower shop. He hadn't noticed Nagi lurking outside the window, just close enough to figure out what flower he'd been dealing with. On the way home, Nagi had bought the scent from a body store, grateful it had been a fairly common flower. Now, cleaned of excess oil with the rose scent lingering on the actual stuffing, Nagi was satisfied. He shoved the cotton batting into the doll, filling it to stiffness and then watching as the needle sewed the doll shut.
He was getting better at this...
Careful hands dressed the doll, and he looked down into the dark purple eyes. He didn't notice Schuldig in the doorway until the telepath spoke. **What are you going to call it?**
**Abyssinian, I think,** Nagi answered in satisfaction. He looked up at Schuldig, smirking. **It'll be a decent substitute until I've got the real one, at least.**
Another nasal laugh as Schuldig left, but Nagi noted that for the first time, the German sounded uneasy.
...Good.
~End~
Word Count: 1,355
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