[Open post] Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.

[doctor_pascal]

Over the past few weeks, Pascal has been obsessively reading, noting, compiling. His teaching sessions with Fuchsia brought on some curiosity about organ transplants. From there, he stumbled into some disturbing reports which have kept him awake at night, disturbed his sleep and eating habits

Comments

[thistle_muncher]

Something might shuffle under the table, then there might be a very soft thump and an irritated "H'oh!" that sounds almost like a donkey braying.

If Pascal peeks under the table, he'll spy a small creature that looks a bit like a donkey, poking irritably at a leg of the table with one hoof. But the shape of the creature isn't right: it's too soft to be a real donkey.

[doctor_pascal]

Just what the. No, really. What. The.

Pascal finds himself sitting up and standing, then reaching for the crowbar and pushing the table away. Books and notes fly off, and he holds the crowbar up, ready to strike.

Eeyore probably has time to stop him with his superpower of cuteness, though.

[thistle_muncher]

Eeyore stares around at the table falling away and the books and papers flying about: he's Wary and Confused and perhaps A Little Scared, and he might shuffle aside. But he looks up at Pascal. "Didn't mean to startle you. That table leg was More Solid than I thought: my head found that out the hard way," he says, with his usual surprisingly deep, deadpan voice.

[doctor_pascal]

OMGWTF. No, really. But it talks, and therefore is not a zombie. Pascal's hand stills over his madly beating heart, and he pants a little.

"--- Mon dieu, what -- are you?"

[thistle_muncher]

"I'm Eeyore, I'm a donkey," Eeyore replies, matter of factly, plopping down on his rear.

[doctor_pascal]

Blink blink. "--- You... are plush," Pascal stutters.

[thistle_muncher]

"I'm real, I'm just made of plush," the little creature replies matter of factly. "Christopher Robin made me real."

[doctor_pascal]

".... Who?"

This is so beyond Pascal's scope of understanding, he doesn't even.

[thistle_muncher]

"The little boy I know, who lives on the edge of the Hundred Acre Wood. He wanted a real donkey, and so I turned real," he says, matter of factly.

[doctor_pascal]

".... I see." Well, that's messed up. But nicer to think about than zombies. "... May I touch you?"

Scientific curiosity got the best of Pascal.

[thistle_muncher]

"Of course you may," Eeyore says, getting up and approaching Pascal. Typist willing, he'll bump his head against Pascal's hand and lean his shoulder against Pascal's knee.

[doctor_pascal]

Okay, that's.... odd, but then Pascal reaches to pat Eeyore's head, much like one would a dog.

"... you're... like nothing I've ever seen," he admits, utterly befuddled.

[thistle_muncher]

Eeyore emits a friendly rumble and shifting his head, will, typist willing, nuzzle Pascal's hand. "Doubt that I am, haven't met another donkey like me, except big ones that were always real," he says.

[doctor_pascal]

Typist is wiling and Pascal is utterly frazzled. "--- you seem rather real to me," he says ineffectually.

[thistle_muncher]

"Guess there's a different kind of real," he says, pausing as he nuzzles Pascal's hand. "I wasn't always this kind of real. Started out as a cuddly toy. Love made me real

[doctor_pascal]

"That sounds like a fairy tale," Pascal replies. "Love does make miracles, doesn't it?"

He smiles a little, endeared.