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[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

There is a doll-like girl sitting on a couch. Oddly, she sits far too still, arrays herself far too carefully for anything to truly ring right about her...

She's waiting. Mistress Lust had bid her read a stack of books, and Tool had memorized what she could before Mistress Max bid her stop, so she must return the books now. Then she no doubt should continue meeting people...

So, soul-less child in a bar. At least she's not wearing the lace and silk evening apparel any more...though the Osh Kosh's certainly don't make her any more comfortable to be around.

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[not_that_spike]

He's never really liked kids. At least that's what he's always told himself and anyone else within earshot. Ed's okay, he guesses. Exception to every rule.

Time's coming when he's going to have to turn that shit around, and Spike knows it. Still, he does a double-take at the kid sitting on the couch not too far from his table: something's definitely fucked up here.

So he just kind of smokes and watches, and when a rat comes by, he orders a cup of coffee.

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

If it's a comfort in the least, Tool is not a child by anyone's definition. In fact, most class her in the OMGkillit! category.

She has learned painfully over time to realize when she is being watched. To predict when attention is upon her so that she may respond accordingly. To make a Master actually state a request is punishable.

And so the small girl rises fluidly and steps towards his table, slipping into a curtsey "Master?"

[not_that_spike]

"Huh?"

Yeah, he's got a way with words: that's what he's heard. And the last person who called him Master ended up shot through the heart.

"I'm not teaching Jeet Kune Do any more." Except to Elaine by special arrangement.

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

Well, unfortunately, she has no idea what Jeet Kune Do is, though if she must hazard a guess she would pray it was some form of art. Arts are suppose to be obscure and she may not be punished for her ignorance.

She does not let her puzzlement show though, she simply rises from her curtsey and smiles emptily at him, a work of art that face, but lacking everything that makes it warm and human. "Did Master require aught?"

[not_that_spike]

"Don't call me that." He watches her through narrowed eyes. "My name's Spike, and I don't need anything."

Wow, is she all kinds of strange.

"How about you?"

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

"All men are Master, women, Mistress" she stated calmly "If Master wishes, I am also allowed to call one Lord?"

Tool has no needs. Never has, never will. "The smoke is bad for your lungs, Master...would you wish me to hael the damages?"

[not_that_spike]

Well, fuck: it's the thing with Elaine and titles all over again. Shrugging, he looks down at the cigarette in his hand. "My lungs are okay."

Doc just cleared him a month or so ago, last time he was back on Mars. Funny what medical nanotechnology can do for a guy. "And... I guess call me whatever you want. Hell, I don't care. What do I call you?"

He can't call her Mistress. Not a chance in hell of that happening.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

Here is someone she could perhaps meet- and given that Wellard is not as good as approaching new people as Tool has been told to-

Well, he is sitting at a nearby table, distractedly looking through a book. There has been a lot of his mind, as of late.

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

The book catches her attention perhaps, or maybe his general air of distraction. Either way, it is not for her to question why he is distracted, simply to sooth such.

So, there is a Tool by his table, silent as a ghost and far more hair raising, fingers upon the page closest to her in silent offer to read for him.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

It is a book on the history and how-to of flight, and it has finally gotten up to the Wright Brothers. Wings, Wellard can understand. It is the engine he was eyeing- in between worried thoughts on other matters. He blinks, looking up at her.

"... Yes?"

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

"Master is stressed" she stated quietly, empty eyes as detailed and beautiful as any doll and about as warm. "If it wouldsooth, I may read..." she offered.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

There is staring. Much staring. Finally-

"My name is Wellard- Henry Wellard. Not master."

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

"All men are Master, women, Mistress" she statd simply, drawing the book closer to herself. Ah, aviation. Not a book she herself has read, butthe concepts she has memorized for Gaunt.

"I am allowed to call one Lord if it is wished..." she offered, sinking fluidly down to sit by his feet like a pet and beginning to read the book aloud for him.

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

There is a man in black striding past her at a rather dedicated pace. Until his brain registers that what he passed wasn't quite normal. The man turns, to look at Tool, trying to recognise her.

"You're not one of mine."

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

And Tool looked up at the strange accusation, empty eyes that should show puzzlement instead reflecting her questioner "No Master, I belong to Mistress Max" she offered.

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

He reaches out, not actually touching her, but feeling her out magically. He doesn't like what he can sense.

"But she didn't create you. She doesn't have the power."

A long pause.

'Where is your soul?"

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

A empty and smooth as an ocean shell after the occupant is eaten, so is Tool upon the inside. One almost fancies to hear the ocean when listening to her heartbeat.

"I am told I lost it Master" she stated simply. "It was not necessary for my purposes"

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

"How does one lose a soul?"

He is way too curious as he approaches her, thinking.

"what is your name?"

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

"I do not recall, Master" she didn't move away from his approach, but she did slip fluidly to the floor, leaving him the couch as was proper.

"Tool, if it pleases"

[prince-arithon.livejournal.com]

Arithon, upon seeing Tool, avoids her. It is a very subtle thing, his avoidance, writ in equal parts shadows to obscure and Wards to befuddle.

But he doesn't even, really, realize that he's done so. Nor does he realize that he's watching her. Seeking what is simply not there.

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

And somethingm some instinct for predicting the wishes of insane Masters causes her to raise her head and look about...but see nothing.

So be it.

She settled back down to wait, still as stone aside from her breath. She can wait forever if she must.

[prince-arithon.livejournal.com]

And there, he sees it.

A spider's thread against the void, but there.

Souless, but not without a soul.

The situation just got a hundred times sadder, and a thousand creepier. She's probably a victim, and that means, well.

Cael narms kiel'ien.

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

No, far from without.

Though it may as well be as such, as tenous as the link is.

Tool doesn't miss it. She's incapable of such.

[prince-arithon.livejournal.com]

And without "touching" it, he follows it as best he can; which here and now, without tienelle is not going to be enough, but it is a beginning.

If it can be brought back...

[simple-tool.livejournal.com]

And oddly, for some reason, a shadow, an echo of fear touches the girl called Tool. Enough to make her puzzled for a moment, and glance over her shoulder at nothing...