Quote:
You receive a mysterious package in the mail. It has your name on it, but no return address. Inside is an extremely creepy doll. Realistically it seems well made and well maintained, but there’s something off about it. If you choose to keep it, it seems to always have its eyes on you. Sometimes it seems to have moved from where you left it—and, since you received it, sometimes you hear a strange, echoing laughter. What do you do?
Spacewatch had long since abandoned most things that young teen girls had in favor for living outside of the government as possible. It was hard to explain that your legal guardian was a cat with forged papers, you technically didn’t exist, and your original parents had been brutally murdered in their own home and the best explanation you would be able to give would be terrorists that would implicate senshi by simple police bias and default assumption. So things, little things that people didn’t often think about often went utterly unnoticed for months on end with she who was previously Jane and now was Mordred. Like that by not existing until a certain point, people who dug into your past were left very confused at times so you had to improvise and make s**t up on the spot in order to better deflect their questions as to who you were exactly. Or like how you possibly couldn’t not know what was the newest thing on Netflix because you needed a credit card for that and with no credit history or rather a false credit history you got looks especially when you had a credit card at age 14. Or mail. Mail was just one of those strangely mundane things you didn’t think about having any real matter or effect but it was there and sooner or later you had to own up to the fact as a non person who was fabricated by a very smart alien cat, getting mail was just out of the question.
So when Mordred had gotten mail, it was not the strange doll that perplexed her, but rather that she got any mail at all. That the post office had her new self on file and someone had sent her something. It was a rather unsettling dool the kind you shoved into a box and promptly forgot about for a few years until you unboxed it much to your shared delight, confusion, and also worry because you had ineveitibly forgotten just why you had packed it away in the first case. (Unless it was a furby. Those were buried in storages for reasons Mordred felt needed no explanation and never would). Turning the doll over in her hands, it felt normal enough, and she’d gone so far as to henshin just to be sure. Yet she felt nothing from it. Well made if unsettling perhaps, but not evil. Not outright anyway.
In the end, she set it on the kitchen counter, eyeing it threateningly as she got dinner ready for her and Arthur, as if the dool might understand that Mordred would smash it, well painted face or not. The dool had no response to her angry looks, yet the girl felt it followed her with it’s gaze, tiny eyes focusing on her. A few times misplaced earlier, along with creepy laughter, the girl was certain it might be haunted but without her legal cat guardian she wasn’t about to go magical on it.
She’d wait until cat dad got home before they performed doll dissection.
