Apparent Age:
10-11
Physical Description
Sweet Dove is, outwardly, a simple, Jointed doll. She is certainly not the first, and she is certainly not the last, though she was made well before the dolls began to assume a form so identical to the humans. Being crafted as a child, she is diminutive in stature, and soft of feature. Instead of long, wispy limbs, her own are more supple and rounded in shape, though she is just as solid as any other doll. Standing at just four and a half feet, she is clearly a child. Her 'skin' is a rich, cocoa-pink hue, blushed with tones of apricot at all of her most delicate points; her ears, her cheeks, the tips of her small fingers and such. She has round cheeks and thick, short brows. The pert bow of her lips is deepened in color, that of a blood-orange, and lightly glossed. Though her bodily silhouette is petite, it is topped by a fleecy mane of grey ringlets and kinks pulled neatly back from her hairline to cascade over her narrow shoulders and pour heavily down to her waist (twice as voluminous as pictured, mind you). Her eyes are somnolescent and heavy-lidded, snowy lashes hooding over them. Her irises are made of vitrail glass that reflect a wild spectrum of dazzling color at all times, the striations of an iris replicated by the facets cut into the glass. Her raiment is simple- a long empire waist gown of warm grey that falls down to her feet, but is never allowed to drag upon the ground or be soiled, for she wears unadorned wooden chopines that make her look a touch taller than she is. Simple straps cross the blade of her foot and cradle her heel, tying neatly without flourish or clasp. Her arms are covered by a dark velvet bolero with three-quarter sleeves and a high, embellished collar. Being of a later generation, Dove's joints are not so cumbersome or bulbous as others, and the intelligent design of their edges allows for smoother, less confined articulation. Though there is a glide to her motions, she does move slowly, seeming to put much care and intent to her every movement. Of course, this is just her being graceful about what others could see as her 'limitations'. Her hard porcelain structure is covered by a tight, nearly seamless layer of thin, soft chamois. If one were to look closely, it is possible to see a well-hidden seam along the insides of her limbs, where the leather meets flush. The softness lends her touch a reassuring quality, a trait she has often used to her advantage; this is counterbalanced by the fact that no matter how 'smooth' her locomotion can be if she concentrates, her weight does not move 'naturally', giving her a faint marionette-like effect.
Being that she at times works on behalf of the Temples, there are times that she wears a frock over her dress. It reaches mid-thigh, falling lower in the back than the front. The 'pleats' are sections shaped like elongated lotus petals; pale grey at the top deepens to soot and eventually black. Even in full garb, a section of her sternum and a slip of her smooth back lay bare. Hidden beneath her hair is her keyhole, placed at the meet of neck and shoulders.
Likewise, there are times where she may be seen in a high-collared black coat with tails and brass buttons, a pair of black, unruffled knickers, grey hose, and slippers. Dove does not mind people considering these 'boys' clothes, for surely androgyny is its own perfection, unmarred by the determinism of sex.
Key Description
A heavy thing of wrought iron, stolid, simple, and yet pleasingly embellished. The shaft twists in a spiral, the bow looping with heavy scrollwork. The blade itself is a labyrinth in miniature, the separate angles and cuts so many in number that it gives the appearance of being lacy and fragile.
Personality
Dove would never admit it, seeking to appear humble, but she sees herself as benevolent. Her attitude is one of kindness, though her propensity for non-action may often leave her seeming a little cold. While one could assume this is just an unavoidable fact of 'life' for some dolls, the truth is that she rather enjoys her stoic, aloof ways, and sees her detachment as a sign of emotional superiority to other dolls and especially humans. Considering that she feels her way is best, and that others just don't know any better, she often sweetly seeks to persuade others to aspire to better behaviors, whether that is being more altruistic, less quick to ire, or more giving. Using herself as an example nearly always, these acts, though useful, are fueled by self-righteousness. Her mien is one of eternal calm, yet something lurks beneath. Her attitude of placidity is sometimes a point of contention with others; when a situation calls for higher levels of emotion, Dove is one to gently chastise others for their vitriol, and beg them to think more than act. She all but refuses to take part in being upset; even if she met a child who had just witnessed the death of a pet, she would simply smile and assure them that surely such a tiny moment in their lives is not worth all of those tears. Perhaps she does not like to see people cry because she cannot... Her voice is deeper than one would expect for a child or a female, specifically, but it has a soft timbre to it and a feathery, feminine intonation. She tends to say only what is germane, and as such, the fact that her facilities of speech are limited by her being is less obvious, because she says so little at a time in the first place. The long pauses are seen as thoughtful, the careful pacing seen as tranquil.
She enjoys assisting others, especially those who are fractured, ill or despondent. It is in these times that she best sees fit to put to use her philosophies on thought and emotion. Though she is not human herself, and does not aspire to be, she has spent some time considering (and judging) those of the flesh, and has come to the conclusion that they are like hapless children, acting foolishly and harming themselves for most of them are not capable of knowing better, especially given that their lives are so fleeting. But, like an inspiring den mother, Dove does not see the temporary nature of man as an excuse for his actions, but rather one more reason that all humans should be more thoughtful, consider the future more, pause and reflect rather than do... in short, be more like a Doll. She personally does not like that the newer Dolls are Jointless, seeing them as a replication of an already flawed being. However, she concedes that she does not possess the Dollmaker's infinite wisdom, and perhaps a jointless doll is a more proper form of being than one filled with blood and waste.
Over her lifespan, Dove has studied many ancient texts, and is a master of theologies, even though they have little to do with the Immortal Dolls. The truth of the matter is that deep down, she is obsessively curious about death and impermanence, going so far as to assist an undertaker for some years, quietly thrilled with the horrid sights of dessicated bodies. It was not so awful as you or I might think, for after all, there was no smell to bother her, and no stomach to upset.
Similarly, she has worked as a governess to many children, infatuated by their newness and growth, though the fascination wears off after they reach a certain age, and become bitter or selfish.
Dove is reserved; loving, but not exactly what one would call 'sweet'. In fact, most of her affections are limited to the use of diminutives and endearments in her speech, and the still, light touches she might apply to one's face, arm, or hand. She herself does not particularly like or dislike being touched, but responds most to being called 'Love' or 'Lamb'.
It is worth noting that they who think they know everything are the most hurt when they realize they know nothing at all. Dove's mental stance is quite rigid, and that makes it deceptively fragile. Considering Dove's strange, morbid curiosity surrounding death, suffering, and the emotional pitfalls of humanity, she is sometimes spurred to see these things come about....
Skill(s)/Abilities
Reciting more than seventy written works, be they parables, prayers or poems.
Caring for and teaching children up to adolescence.
Minor repairs of leather, clay and porcelain. She finds wood less forgiving.
Persuasiveness.
Likes
Being and dressing in a respectable, pious manner.
Cathedrals
Clocks (a bit of an obsession)
Time alone
Death and birth
Iron
Dislikes
Teenaged children
Dolls who act too much like humans
Impetuosity
Vulgarity
Desperation
Gaudy clothing
Extensive jewelry
Fears
Death
That Humans indeed have a fuller experience of life because they die
Having her worldview shaken apart
History
When awakened at the gates of a small town outside of Sagen, she first ran into a priest. Being a child dressed in knickers and a white velvet waistcoat, her gender was not apparent (as many children, male and female in that area, wore long hair), and she was addressed and clothed as male. She made a fine altar boy, and was doted on for her quiet nature, though she was somewhat of an accessory and diversion, a thing of beauty more than a person. No matter. She absorbed theologies and attitudes on the pitfalls of mankind like a sponge, and so it was within the marble pillars and checkered floors of the church that her outlook was first firmed.
Not being bodily gendered herself, she did not refute or address being seen as male and never saw any reason to correct them. In truth, to this day, she will answer to male and female terms without batting a lash, and has settled as female because most people refer to her that way. Deep down, she is curious as to which gender the Dollmaker intended her to be, but because the lack of such knowledge has not made much of a difference in her life, she is not too terribly concerned with an answer. She has always found her place helping others, yet her service is never pure servitude, and she retained a lofty demeanor.
How many days did they have left when they went for the winding?
Twelve
Other
Dove carries with her a very long string of three-hundred and sixty-four howlite beads. There is no clasp, but an old silver pocketwatch pendulates at one end, the sterling grown dark with patina over time. Every ninety-one beads, there is a thin black clock hand, sharp yet beautiful and frail. The clock within this mala of sorts dictates seconds, minutes, hours and days, with a slowly rotating image of the sun and moon in the lower middle.
