02-14-2018, 08:57 AM
"Hello?"
A bit miffed at having Its performance interrupted, It turned to welcome the unwelcome newcomer with a mouthful of razorblades, whoever they were, and then abruptly stopped short.
Oh! A child.
It was not a creature designed for companionship, this much was true, but It had always liked children. Not in a way that implied true friendship or compassion, though— both were the most powerful and insidious of bonds, in Its educated opinion. No, It regarded children similarly to how a sheep farmer looks upon his flock... Perhaps affectionately naming a few here and there, imitating a baa with too much enthusiasm in the wee hours of the morning when meandering out into the pasture, but ultimately sleeping soundly at night with the knowledge that his woolly little friends are destined for the slaughterhouse.
Still, apart from the inevitable and bloody act of the kill, It enjoyed the brief moments of interaction between Itself and Its prey. Children were so imaginative, so in awe of Its clownish tricks, yet quaked so awfully with fear once Its true nature revealed itself.
One of Its pupils slowed and remained fixed to the left on the armored bipeds, the other aiming squarely at the Nexus floor, the pile of soggy bodies, friendly blue irises and sharp little buckteeth making It appear spectacularly dopey and harmless. Well, right up until Its red grin widened at the tiny girl with rose-shaped ribbons in her — blue!— hair, painted-on nose crinkling in amusement.
There was a static-filled crackle, like that of a walkie-talkie. But, It paid little attention to the soldiers— it was showtime, after all. One gloved hand was swiftly tucked behind Its back as It swept into a goofy bow that had Its forehead almost brushing the ground, bells tinkling merrily and with a brightness that was crisp as silver starlight.
"HellooOo?" It repeated back to her in a parroty and chirruping kind of voice, still smiling. "And who might you be, then?"
The girl regarded Pennywise warily at first, her mismatched eyes flicking over Its face like she was trying to solve arithmetic. That was okay, though; they always did that. Plus, her hesitancy gave It time to assess how best to go about the hunt, quickly examining her from head to foot. How fun! How absolutely, irrefutably, posi-tutely ideal!
She was almost like a little dolly, short and tucked into a frilly black dress; the kind of toy a child might bring to a funeral, unsure of the true purpose of the event but at least noticing the overbearing amount of dark clothing involved. Her eyes, one a silly kind of blue that It had only ever seen in certain parts of deep space, the other redder than one of Its balloons, stared back placidly into Its face, uncertain and yet somewhat cold.
Finally, the girl appeared to give a minute twitch— like a daydreamer rousing from a light sleep. She'd hardly seemed to be breathing, even, causing It to wonder if she'd already died of fright, but she spoke up soon enough.
"Viola," she said, her voice trailing and soft as the gentle sweep of feathers over water. She tilted her chin up slightly in acknowledgement, hands fiddling anxiously with the edge of her dress, "Who... are you?"
It crowed, jittering with such incandescent joy that Its feet did a merry little jig. The bright orange pompoms lining Its front bobbed up, down, and all around. "Viola— what a name! Viola, violet, violins, violence! I'm Pennywise the Daaaanciiiing Clown! Happy to make your acquaintance. Mmmmhmmm, you betcha."
A bit miffed at having Its performance interrupted, It turned to welcome the unwelcome newcomer with a mouthful of razorblades, whoever they were, and then abruptly stopped short.
Oh! A child.
It was not a creature designed for companionship, this much was true, but It had always liked children. Not in a way that implied true friendship or compassion, though— both were the most powerful and insidious of bonds, in Its educated opinion. No, It regarded children similarly to how a sheep farmer looks upon his flock... Perhaps affectionately naming a few here and there, imitating a baa with too much enthusiasm in the wee hours of the morning when meandering out into the pasture, but ultimately sleeping soundly at night with the knowledge that his woolly little friends are destined for the slaughterhouse.
Still, apart from the inevitable and bloody act of the kill, It enjoyed the brief moments of interaction between Itself and Its prey. Children were so imaginative, so in awe of Its clownish tricks, yet quaked so awfully with fear once Its true nature revealed itself.
One of Its pupils slowed and remained fixed to the left on the armored bipeds, the other aiming squarely at the Nexus floor, the pile of soggy bodies, friendly blue irises and sharp little buckteeth making It appear spectacularly dopey and harmless. Well, right up until Its red grin widened at the tiny girl with rose-shaped ribbons in her — blue!— hair, painted-on nose crinkling in amusement.
There was a static-filled crackle, like that of a walkie-talkie. But, It paid little attention to the soldiers— it was showtime, after all. One gloved hand was swiftly tucked behind Its back as It swept into a goofy bow that had Its forehead almost brushing the ground, bells tinkling merrily and with a brightness that was crisp as silver starlight.
"HellooOo?" It repeated back to her in a parroty and chirruping kind of voice, still smiling. "And who might you be, then?"
The girl regarded Pennywise warily at first, her mismatched eyes flicking over Its face like she was trying to solve arithmetic. That was okay, though; they always did that. Plus, her hesitancy gave It time to assess how best to go about the hunt, quickly examining her from head to foot. How fun! How absolutely, irrefutably, posi-tutely ideal!
She was almost like a little dolly, short and tucked into a frilly black dress; the kind of toy a child might bring to a funeral, unsure of the true purpose of the event but at least noticing the overbearing amount of dark clothing involved. Her eyes, one a silly kind of blue that It had only ever seen in certain parts of deep space, the other redder than one of Its balloons, stared back placidly into Its face, uncertain and yet somewhat cold.
Finally, the girl appeared to give a minute twitch— like a daydreamer rousing from a light sleep. She'd hardly seemed to be breathing, even, causing It to wonder if she'd already died of fright, but she spoke up soon enough.
"Viola," she said, her voice trailing and soft as the gentle sweep of feathers over water. She tilted her chin up slightly in acknowledgement, hands fiddling anxiously with the edge of her dress, "Who... are you?"
It crowed, jittering with such incandescent joy that Its feet did a merry little jig. The bright orange pompoms lining Its front bobbed up, down, and all around. "Viola— what a name! Viola, violet, violins, violence! I'm Pennywise the Daaaanciiiing Clown! Happy to make your acquaintance. Mmmmhmmm, you betcha."
![[Image: tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/0f940b744e47adff247fbd62ee924a4c/tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif)