((RP)) Leftovers

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Part One: Curse You, Smokeywood Pastures.

They told him he would have a very short life, but that while he lived, nothing could hurt him... except fire. He was immune to all kinds of magics and weapons. They told him he would spread the cheer of the season wherever he went. They put him in a little box, and wrapped it up, and placed it under the tree.

He had listened eagerly as, one day, the wrapping paper was ripped off. He had braced himself when the box, his little house, was shaken a bit. And then the lid opened, and he smiled up into... a grinning, rotting face wearing a leather mask. He watched the face's grin slide into what seemed to be severe disappointment. He wasn't sure about the emotion, though. He hadn't been around people much--and also, his new owner's mouth was a little deformed, so she looked like she was smiling all the time. She stank of death.

What could he do? He was bound to her. Whenever she took him out of his little box, he had to follow her and stay near her. At first she was content to try to outrun him. He would toddle along after her on his miniscule little legs, feeling panicked, desperate not to lose her. She would make as if to strike him, but, true to his manufacturing, he couldn't be hurt. He liked to think she was just playing around. That she knew she couldn't hurt him.

Until one day she took him into a fireplace and began dancing. He caught fire. His skin blistered and burned. His clothes were aflame. He couldn't breathe. His owner made as if to heal him, as she was healing herself (and he hated, hated watching her burns heal with a lazy wave of her hand!), but then she would shrug. Oh well, she seemed to say. Immune to magic.

And he died, suffering more pain than he thought possible.

But that wasn't the end. Oh, no. She put him back in his box, where he regenerated. When she opened it the next time, her grotesque smile streatched wide, and she laughed. No longer disappointed in her gift.

This had been going on for weeks. The Feast was long done with.

He wondered when she'd run out of snowballs.

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Part Two: Ho ho ho.

She had the cutest little red outfit that she was just so so very proud of. When her Mistress saw how cute she was in it, she went into a magical chamber and came out wearing a matching red outfit! Mistress was short and plump, too.. That's when the little red helper knew her Mistress loved her.

They played chasing games in their matching outfits. Mistress even took her to battle a couple times! Oh, they had such great fun.

But the magic dressing chamber went away, and Mistress had to walk around in her stinky rotten flesh. But that was okay. It wasn't so bad once you got used to it. Besides, this little red helper was made to make people happy, and spread holiday cheer for as long as there were snowballs to be found! She was very optimistic.

There was another helper, a boy one... She wished she could see him, sometimes. He never made any noise, except when he was dying from the fire. She wished they could talk to each other, but they weren't made to speak, and they were never let out at the same time. They were made to be cute and make their masters and mistresses happy. They didn't need each other.

And oh, the little red helper was doing such a good job. Sometimes Mistress would take her out of her box and dance with her in the fire. Sometimes there would be a little crowd watching! The little red helper did her very best to smile big and look cute as she burned to death. She found a way to deal with the pain: just pretend it isn't there. Ask yourself, what's pain, anyway? Pain is nothing!

She knew her Mistress loved her. Otherwise why didn't Mistress throw her away, and get rid of all her snowballs? Sometimes she'd pat her, or tickle her, or laugh at her, or give her a kiss on her smoldering little head... Mistress was very affectionate. Of course Mistress loved her.

It's just that, well... Sometimes the little red helper wished her Mistress would show her love in less painful ways.

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