DethPink, Part 2 (Mythklok Interstitial)
Jun. 15th, 2011 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: DethPink, Part 2 (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kids making toys
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing
Notes: A sequel, of sorts, to this. And, yeah, I actually have the next real chapter almost ready to go.
Somewhere in India…
"Angels don't have a conscience."
"Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about," Ganesh assured Charles.
Charles felt uncomfortably overdressed. They were both fairly casually attired today - no designer wear for Ganesh. But this place gave the look of people grateful to wear hand me downs.
Ganesh handed something to the man at the door - a bribe, no doubt - and they slipped inside the back door.
I've walked into a Dickens novel, Charles thought. A real one, not the Christmas card bullshit with jolly carolers. Just children. No obnoxious singing here. They were quiet as ghosts, all hunched over their work tables.
They were all working on Pretty Pretty Princess dolls.
It was dark, as the windows had all been blocked out. So you couldn't see in, or so the kids couldn't see out? Charles wondered. The lighting wasn't great.
They passed by a table where the kids held up little masks to the doll's face. They weren't playing masquerade ball (or, covert action against the demon squad, as his niece would have done) but rather were using the small masks to spray paint Pretty Pretty Princess' kabuki-level makeup onto the doll's face. He immediately saw why they were using kids: their small hands allowed them to work deftly. He also noticed, of course, that they didn't wear any masks or respirators, and a couple of them were coughing. Like they had fucking consumption or some horrible 19th century disease.
Tiny Fucking Tim, thought Charles.
"You know, I bet this is the only decent employer in these parts," Charles whispered to Ganesh.
"Decent is a matter of opinion. But you are probably correct."
"And, it's not as if the alternative for these kids is a swank private school."
"That is doubtless correct as well."
Charles cursed under his breath. He fucking hated it when Ganesh got agreeable.
They walked through more rooms. There was a macabre scene with scattered dismembered doll parts that kids twisted onto doll torsos. There were some vaguely dangerous looking machines, and small workers sticking fingers into them. Despite himself, Charles cringed.
“This is why we decided against investing in the company,” Ganesh explained quietly.
It was fucking weird for a place full of kids to be so hushed. Charles thought of his son screaming with his cousins.
His son....
There was a small boy, off in the corner. Charles wasn't great at judging kid ages. Maybe ten years old, but he looked like someone who might be small for his age. Most of the other kids looked to be around 12, so maybe he was just a runt. Charles couldn't see the face from this angle, just the dark hair, going every which way.
He had stopped walking. "Don't...." he whispered. But the boy turned and looked. Sweet brown eyes blinked at him, for just one moment, and then turned back to his sewing machine.
Charles felt himself striding ahead, and then he had the man who had let them in by the collar, Charles’ eyes burning into his, saying, "Where. Is. The. Owner?"
Ganesh, smiling faintly, quietly repeated the question in Hindi.
"Are you going to kiss every single fucking one, Raziel?"
"Yes. And then I will begin puppy distribution!" she laughed.
Charles stood moodily off to the side as the children in their ridiculous new school uniforms lined up outside their brand new school. There was excited chattering and fidgeting. Somehow, the ghostly factory workers had snapped back to being kids.
Raziel caught his arm. "Just close your eyes and think of the tax deduction," she grinned. She trotted off, undoubtedly to hug more of the little vermin.
"This is one of the adult workers," Ganesh said as he breezed up, Elias in his arms. Just two arms today, as it was a public occasion. "She has some experience teaching, so we've requested that she stay on."
"Can you ask her something for me?" Charles asked.
"Certainly."
"When we walked through, that first time, there was a little boy, on the sewing machines. He looked like.... Anyway, I don't see him here today."
Ganesh and the woman conversed for a bit. She looked puzzled. "Hrm. That's strange. Are you certain it was a sewing machine?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"She says they didn't have any boys sewing. That was only girls. Perhaps it was a little girl? It is sometimes difficult to tell at that age."
"No. It was a boy. I...." Charles shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Thanks."
"Can you take this one for a bit? My arms are getting tired, and this isn't a proper place to pop out the extras! You are getting heavy, you!" he told Elias as he handed him off. Ganesh walked off, chattering with the worker.
Elias grabbed onto Charles. He shook his toy at him. A Pretty Pretty Princess doll.
"Where did you get this?" Charles asked him, receiving only giggles in returned. He took a good look at the doll, who was looking a bit disheveled. He turned her over and saw why. The back of her dress was coming undone. It had been sewn almost comically poorly, pink threads going all over the place.
He frowned at Elias. "Why do I get the feeling like I've been scammed?"
Two very lovely eyes blinked back at him. Two very innocent brown eyes.
“What?” asked Raziel, taking a break from hugging duties.
“I have a conscience. Evidently.”
“You grew one?”
“Yes. And he’s EVIL.” Elias broke out into more giggles.
“Well, the only kind of conscience you’d have. C’mon, we have to go hug some puppies.”
“Aw, shit, Raziel,” grumbled Charles as he was dragged away.
“It’s OK, they’re evil puppies.”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kids making toys
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing
Notes: A sequel, of sorts, to this. And, yeah, I actually have the next real chapter almost ready to go.
Somewhere in India…
"Angels don't have a conscience."
"Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about," Ganesh assured Charles.
Charles felt uncomfortably overdressed. They were both fairly casually attired today - no designer wear for Ganesh. But this place gave the look of people grateful to wear hand me downs.
Ganesh handed something to the man at the door - a bribe, no doubt - and they slipped inside the back door.
I've walked into a Dickens novel, Charles thought. A real one, not the Christmas card bullshit with jolly carolers. Just children. No obnoxious singing here. They were quiet as ghosts, all hunched over their work tables.
They were all working on Pretty Pretty Princess dolls.
It was dark, as the windows had all been blocked out. So you couldn't see in, or so the kids couldn't see out? Charles wondered. The lighting wasn't great.
They passed by a table where the kids held up little masks to the doll's face. They weren't playing masquerade ball (or, covert action against the demon squad, as his niece would have done) but rather were using the small masks to spray paint Pretty Pretty Princess' kabuki-level makeup onto the doll's face. He immediately saw why they were using kids: their small hands allowed them to work deftly. He also noticed, of course, that they didn't wear any masks or respirators, and a couple of them were coughing. Like they had fucking consumption or some horrible 19th century disease.
Tiny Fucking Tim, thought Charles.
"You know, I bet this is the only decent employer in these parts," Charles whispered to Ganesh.
"Decent is a matter of opinion. But you are probably correct."
"And, it's not as if the alternative for these kids is a swank private school."
"That is doubtless correct as well."
Charles cursed under his breath. He fucking hated it when Ganesh got agreeable.
They walked through more rooms. There was a macabre scene with scattered dismembered doll parts that kids twisted onto doll torsos. There were some vaguely dangerous looking machines, and small workers sticking fingers into them. Despite himself, Charles cringed.
“This is why we decided against investing in the company,” Ganesh explained quietly.
It was fucking weird for a place full of kids to be so hushed. Charles thought of his son screaming with his cousins.
His son....
There was a small boy, off in the corner. Charles wasn't great at judging kid ages. Maybe ten years old, but he looked like someone who might be small for his age. Most of the other kids looked to be around 12, so maybe he was just a runt. Charles couldn't see the face from this angle, just the dark hair, going every which way.
He had stopped walking. "Don't...." he whispered. But the boy turned and looked. Sweet brown eyes blinked at him, for just one moment, and then turned back to his sewing machine.
Charles felt himself striding ahead, and then he had the man who had let them in by the collar, Charles’ eyes burning into his, saying, "Where. Is. The. Owner?"
Ganesh, smiling faintly, quietly repeated the question in Hindi.
"Are you going to kiss every single fucking one, Raziel?"
"Yes. And then I will begin puppy distribution!" she laughed.
Charles stood moodily off to the side as the children in their ridiculous new school uniforms lined up outside their brand new school. There was excited chattering and fidgeting. Somehow, the ghostly factory workers had snapped back to being kids.
Raziel caught his arm. "Just close your eyes and think of the tax deduction," she grinned. She trotted off, undoubtedly to hug more of the little vermin.
"This is one of the adult workers," Ganesh said as he breezed up, Elias in his arms. Just two arms today, as it was a public occasion. "She has some experience teaching, so we've requested that she stay on."
"Can you ask her something for me?" Charles asked.
"Certainly."
"When we walked through, that first time, there was a little boy, on the sewing machines. He looked like.... Anyway, I don't see him here today."
Ganesh and the woman conversed for a bit. She looked puzzled. "Hrm. That's strange. Are you certain it was a sewing machine?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"She says they didn't have any boys sewing. That was only girls. Perhaps it was a little girl? It is sometimes difficult to tell at that age."
"No. It was a boy. I...." Charles shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Thanks."
"Can you take this one for a bit? My arms are getting tired, and this isn't a proper place to pop out the extras! You are getting heavy, you!" he told Elias as he handed him off. Ganesh walked off, chattering with the worker.
Elias grabbed onto Charles. He shook his toy at him. A Pretty Pretty Princess doll.
"Where did you get this?" Charles asked him, receiving only giggles in returned. He took a good look at the doll, who was looking a bit disheveled. He turned her over and saw why. The back of her dress was coming undone. It had been sewn almost comically poorly, pink threads going all over the place.
He frowned at Elias. "Why do I get the feeling like I've been scammed?"
Two very lovely eyes blinked back at him. Two very innocent brown eyes.
“What?” asked Raziel, taking a break from hugging duties.
“I have a conscience. Evidently.”
“You grew one?”
“Yes. And he’s EVIL.” Elias broke out into more giggles.
“Well, the only kind of conscience you’d have. C’mon, we have to go hug some puppies.”
“Aw, shit, Raziel,” grumbled Charles as he was dragged away.
“It’s OK, they’re evil puppies.”
