((ooc: through his eyes as usual. Because. And totally unfiltered as always~ ♥ ))
In the bedroom, he was sitting on the brown carpet, his back to the bed itself, reclining against it. All over the floor on his right were pieces of his project and the tools used in it: scissors, spools of thread, some scraps of various colored fabrics, and a bag of what looked like pillow stuffing.
His right hand's fingers pushed the needle through the green fabric, pulling a lighter green thread through the middle of it, leaving a line -- a vein? -- before finding another place and continuing the bit of embroidery across the small surface. The green fabric was a triangle tip in his fingers, connected to a gray plush humanoid figure in his lap, which looked to be a kiddish version of Gale's demon form.
He paused, eyeing the few veins he'd stitched in, and then held up the plush to look it over, frowning critically at it. The limbs weren't pitted, but they did have the dark bands across them. There weren't blades to stick out from the toes, merely the long knobs behind the heels. The teeth were closed over the middle of the head, their zigzag pattern marked with a thin black thread stitched back and forth.
To his left on the carpet sat others... A toy of a yellowy brownish humanoid, ribbons for her forearms and the darker markings painted on. Next to her, a half-finished gray figure. It wasn't stuffed yet, lacked details, and its side was still open, but it was probably recognizable anyway, to people that'd seen Varna before. There was an issue with the arm blades, which the doll lacked so far: how would he even do those? Dangly pieces of fabric, or even ribbon? Or maybe stiff pieces that folded into the arm, like the real ones? He could picture those all too well for his liking, the long curves of -- what were they, bone? -- with sharp tips and edges, hinged to flip out and--
a black shape, a distorted face, with rows of razor-sharp, pointed teeth, almost a starburst of fangs where the jaw should be, dropping down quickly, closing in and
--he let out a small sound, dropping the Vayu plush into his lap again, shaking. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, trying to focus again. He was tired, and his mind was wandering. That's all it was. Obviously. Just tiredness making him imagine things he didn't want to.
And he'd managed to stick his left thumb with that needle while he wasn't paying attention.
Harley sighed and sucked the little trace of red off his finger. At least it wasn't too bad... but he really ought to quit staying up so late. Time to clean up his project; he'd climb into bed after he did.