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A Delicate Machine
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Well, Dorothy certainly went from desolate to overjoyed in the blink of an eye. Asha hadn't expected her words to have that dramatic an effect, but she sure as hell wasn't complaining. She supposed it was a shame that she would no longer have any use of her legs, but it was a worthy price to pay for a happy friend. Asha patted her on the head. "You can bet I'm not leaving ya anytime soon!" Now all she had to do was make sure she could live up to these words. Oh, how she hated liars.

That was about to be tested, it seemed. Someone Asha recognized as a drama kid was dramatically running at them with a machete. Well, hopefully not running at them with a machete, but running at them while coincidentally having a machete in their hands. A world of nuance, there. The fact that he had the decency to shout a (seemingly strained) greeting let Asha hope that he wasn't in the mood for a fight.

She'd hoped to not have to test her newfound philosophy so soon, but it didn't seem like she had any other choice. Didn't help that Dorothy was still pinning her down. That wasn't her fault, though! Hugs were good and should happen as much as practical! Worst came to worst, Asha could distract the maniac long enough to let Dorothy make a break for it. Time to do or die, or maybe do by dying. Either worked, honestly.

"Hey there, Mr. Machete!" Asha shouted to Alex, broadly waving. "Welcome to the party!"
a tribute for the dead and dying

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