Boc the Seamster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautiful_boc) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2025-02-13 08:30 am
beautiful_boc) wrote in fandomtownies2025-02-13 08:30 am
Entry tags:
Pixie Dust; Thursday [02/13].
Pixie Dust was in quite a state of disarray, from unfolded clothing on the display tables to mannequins being knocked over, and, of course, a good deal of garments and fabric ripped and shredded and torn...
...and, apparently, there had also been efforts to set things right again, shelves brought back up, items piled rather than scattered, things being stitched and mended back together.
It had been a roller coaster of emotion for Boc this week, erratic swings of extreme violence and rage welling up in him for no good reason, only to subside long enough for him to stare in abject horror at what he'd done, threatening and snarling at his employees, tearing through things, unable to calm the beast within him. He remembered, somewhat, the last time this had happened, where it seemed like he couldn't control...whatever it was, that set him apart from the other demi-humans, when he became just as ruled by those violent, hateful instincts that seemed to rule his kind.
And he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all, and so he was sequestering himself in his nest underneath the counter for his own good and the good of those around him, and especially for all those poor and helpless garments that didn't deserve that kind of abuse. He was supposed to create beautiful clothing, not destroy it!
This, too, he told himself, shall pass, but he was mostly just willing himself to become a tree again instead, with no such luck.
Pixie Dust is (sort of) open!
...and, apparently, there had also been efforts to set things right again, shelves brought back up, items piled rather than scattered, things being stitched and mended back together.
It had been a roller coaster of emotion for Boc this week, erratic swings of extreme violence and rage welling up in him for no good reason, only to subside long enough for him to stare in abject horror at what he'd done, threatening and snarling at his employees, tearing through things, unable to calm the beast within him. He remembered, somewhat, the last time this had happened, where it seemed like he couldn't control...whatever it was, that set him apart from the other demi-humans, when he became just as ruled by those violent, hateful instincts that seemed to rule his kind.
And he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all, and so he was sequestering himself in his nest underneath the counter for his own good and the good of those around him, and especially for all those poor and helpless garments that didn't deserve that kind of abuse. He was supposed to create beautiful clothing, not destroy it!
This, too, he told himself, shall pass, but he was mostly just willing himself to become a tree again instead, with no such luck.
Pixie Dust is (sort of) open!