King of the Dolls

New New York


a part of King of the Dolls, by Ashes-6695.


Ashes-6695 holds sovereignty over New New York, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
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Default Location for King of the Dolls


New New York is a part of King of the Dolls.

32 Characters Here

Hayden Valkyrie [24] "It's not that I can't, it's just that I don't want to, okay?"
Mika Taylor [23] "I don't recall being this...shapely."
Lyanna Tarnish [23] "Underestimate me, if you like. It will be the last thing you ever do."
Adrian Alistair [22] "Out of my face, you dolt!"
Isaac [20] "What gives you the right?"
Jayson 'Jay' Miako [19] "You take me from my peace to turn me into an item for consumers? You, vile man, will have Hell to pay before I am done with you."
Garret [18] "I was just a replacement for someone dead. Now I'm not even that anymore."
Annabelle 'Ivy' Smithson [18] "Just because I don't look like you doesn't mean I am any different."
Belton Reily [18] "When I said I wanted to serve my king for all eternity, I didn't mean it quite like this"
Adina "Adi" [18] "I just don't think... that there are enough words to make you understand."

Start Character Here »


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish Character Portrait: Jayson 'Jay' Miako Character Portrait: Kellan-Leigh

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Jayson Miako

Jayson looked over at the pink haired girl, a smirk quirking at her question. Jayson found the question thoroughly amusing. Jayson had never believed in Hell or Heaven, yet he still used those places as a way to express himself.
“Interesting company?” The woman asked him, causing the bemused smirk to broaden. If Hell were, indeed, a place; Jayson could believe the company there would be very interesting.

“Always,” The raven haired boy replied, tossing the girl a quick glance before looking around. As everything else in this building, the room was foreign and strange to him. The ground was covered in some fabric; the color a, rather bland, beige. The walls looked smooth, not wood or stone.

Jay pursed his lips, walking past the entrance and then looked around more. The dining hall was just as strange and futuristic as everything else since he was ‘brought back to life’. Jay then went down a hall, opening the nearest door. His brow furrowed as he looked inside the small room.

Closest to him was a porcelain bowl, strange knobs and a pipe sticking out of the top. He twisted one of the knobs out of curiosity and was surprised to find water began to flow freely out of the pipe. Another odd thing was that the bowl did not fill with the water, but it simply drained away through little holes in the bowl.
“Such a waste,” Jay said, shaking his head. He had no idea where the water went, but knew it dealt with some futuristic technology. Jayson testily put his hand in the water.

Searing pain shot from his fingers as the made contact with the water. Jumping back, the boy had to bite his lip from crying out. As he looked at the bowl, he saw steam come up from the bowl. His lips made an ‘O’ as he realized the water was hot.
“Well, that’s interesting.” The fact that they did not need fire to heat the water was interesting to Jay. Turning off the water, Jayson looked at the other Knob, turning it on. Water poured out of the pipe once again.

“What’s the point in that?” He thought, tentatively putting his hand under the water once again. The boy got a shock as frigid water ran over his fingers, removing the burning sensation in his hand. After looking around the room for a while longer, he left and went back towards where the others were. Everyone seemed a little defeated, even scared.

He decided they weren’t much of company, so he went through another door into a wide room. He saw something glowing in the room and walked over to it. He tapped the little contraption, watching in awe as the Heartland brand came up onto the screen.

“Are you in need of assistance?” A female’s voice came through the device.

“No, I think not.” Jayson said, walking away from the device.
Jayson needed to do something.

He needed to find his knight.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isaac Character Portrait: Adina "Adi"

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Isaac looked back at the other doll silently, waiting. The way the other bit his lip made it quite obvious that an answer would not be short in coming. But he could wait. He could be good. He shifted on his feet, twisting his fingers anxiously. Adi spoke, reinforcing what he already know. A difficult question required more time to answer. He worked up a smile and a nod to show that he understood. In the midst of the next pause the elevator door slid open. Isaac moved a bit closer to Adi, and the other linked their arms to lead him where ever it was they were going. The courtyard, hadn't he said? He held onto the shorter doll's arm as he heard the sigh. The sigh itself seemed a bit foreboding, but he wouldn't jump to conclusions. He shouldn't jump to conclusions.

Adi finally began to speak, answer, in that careful, distanced voice of his. Alive and not alive. He knew what not alive was: being shut down. Decommissioned. Gone. Dead? He wasn't quite sure about the last one, because he still wasn't sure if he was actually alive, despite Adi's words. Could something that had never lived die? His body was artificial, sustained by programming and machinery. So what made him any more alive than the computers that checked his vitals? He didn't know what it was, but his mind was scraping the rough edges of his less than mediocre programming, the gaps that turned him into a rudimentary being when stimulated. But he did want a new feeling. Something to patch up his perceived shortcomings.

Isaac didn't hear the noise as much as he felt Adi tense, and he did the same, except instead of jumping he ducked down a bit, as if he'd expected to be hit over the head. The threat was naught however, and they soon continued moving along. They came to a door as Adi spoke again, and Isaac let the other pull his arm away, listening intently. Different didn't say much, nothing for the worse or the better, but he knew Adi wasn't done yet. he'd just have to be patient. This was a gift anyway, these small new understandings. In a moment he was distracted anyway by his first exit into the outside. It wasn't much, closed off as it was, but it was something. He closed his eyes taking in the fresh smell, though it the air wasn't clean by any standard. It was just less stuffy than the antiseptic atmosphere of the building he'd awoke in.

He followed Adi over to a tree, eying the scientists standing around, smoking. They didn't bother them though, strangely enough. Isaac wasn't going to question it though. He sat down in the grass, running his fingers through the blades like hair. After a moment Adi spoke again, and Isaac turned his body towards the other doll, folding his bare legs underneath him neatly. He wouldn't be here for much longer. He'd known that already, it was all Melody would talk about, but when Adi said it the words took on a different meaning. Partially hope, and a certain sense of sadness. Adi had said it as if though he would go, Adi would still be here. He reached out and took one of Adi's hands in an attempt to silently comfort him, as his instinct urged him to.

There was a reassuring smile from the other doll's side and Isaac returned it though his expression was still as solemn as ever. He wasn't sure if he should believe the doll's next words. He wanted to believe them, he wanted to have hope, but his empty little mind always wanted to assume the worst about himself. Nasty little habit. But he could do his best to believe the words and not worry. It would be easier on his mind. And maybe he would find some solace out in the real world for his newborn, restless mind. Who knew.

Isaac stared at his companion for a moment in intense silence. Thoughtful. "Thank you." He said after an uncharacteristic pause. Though there were still many questions in his mind, he didn't need to ask them all now. Lighter topics seemed more attractive at this moment. He stretched out, releasing Adi's hand and laying back in the grass with both his hands folded behind his head, bending his knees so his feet would lay flat, just on the edge where the concrete started. "How's your caretaker?" He asked after settling himself down. "Mine's real peppy. Likes to dress me up all the time." He said, staring at his bare legs. Melody was nice enough though, he supposed. But she was very bossy. he didn't like that. But then again, most of the scientists he'd met had done nothing but boss him around anyway. He was about to move his legs so he could look at Adi again when he heard a voice that made him freeze.

"Isaac. What's gotten into you?" Oops. Busted. He froze, as if not moving would prevent Melody from coming any nearer, but he was wrong. In a moment he was looking up at her little flushed face. her blonde hair was wild as if she'd spent a good amount of time worrying it. He blinked and swallowed hard.

"Hi Mel." He said slowly, going for the innocent look and attempting a smile.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," She chastised him, reaching down and tugging on his arm. She paid little attention to Adi. He was a special case. Anyway, Evan was right there. He could do something if he felt it necessary. Isaac was her only priority right now. "Just what did you think to do?" She continued, berating him in her musical tones.

Isaac made no response right away. What could he say? he wanted to escape, get away? No, that wasn't even true. He just stood up complacently and tugged his hoodie down a bit more. "I was...practicing my people skills?" he said, more of a question than a statement. Mel just rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, we need to get you ready for the Ball or you're never getting out of here. And you will behave this time." There was an ounce of force in her voice, and he made a mumbled "Yes'm" in response. As she herded the tall doll back towards the door, he twisted around and waved at his companion, friend? "Best of luck, Adi." He called with a quirk of a smile before Mel pushed him through the door. SHe wouldn't stay mad at him for very long. She never did.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Character Portrait: Xander

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#, as written by Jynxii
Emma Swann


Emma watched her new owner carefully, feeling a soft twist in her stomach at the sight of him being even slightly unhappy. "God knows who father will set me up with," he was saying, more to himself than to her. His handsome eyes were downcast, meaning she probably shouldn’t comment on his statement. In the next moment, he was flashing a brilliant smile and saying, "So I guess without Meora - and without a proper date - that leaves just you and me. All alone." A blush bloomed into her face once again. Was it programmed to do that, or was he really making her giddy? Her blue hues carefully moved over his face, as his own orbs searched hers for a reaction. “Well, I guess you’ll have a wonderful time then,” she replied, offering him a warm smile.

Xander seemed to be stuck in some sort of strange limbo, between being sad and being interested in her. His body seemed to tense and relax in an interesting chain of reactions, and she couldn’t help but watch him. What was it like, to be real? To just be. To not be programmed, or designed for anything… to just be. She was doing it again; thinking too much. Oh, shit… he’s been talking this whole time… …about you pleasing me,” His hand reached out and touched her skin, causing her body to tense. A warm feeling began to dribble over her like warm butter at his touch. His handsome lips were moving, but his words were lost to her. His eyes glittered mysteriously, making it impossible to look away from him.

Then, without warning, he was snatching his hand away as if her skin burned. He even stood and moved away from her. His distance blasted shotgun shells into the butterflies in her stomach. As the tiny bits of their wings sizzled into her stomach acid, she slowly stood up as she twisted her fingers in front of her. “Well, I… That’s great!” She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and let a smile lift her cheeks once again. “So! About that dress?”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olive Dawn Croft Character Portrait: Isaac

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#, as written by Jynxii


“Yes, Mr. Berkly, I’ll have them ready by tomorrow. I’m sure she will love them. Yep! You, too!” With a gentle click, she returned the shop phone to it’s resting position. Mr.Berkly had gotten in deep with his wife, and was now trying to make nice with her with a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. Yellow tulips. It was sweet that he remembered such things after twenty years of marriage. Olive walked out from behind the green counter, gently pushing the white fence-like door to make way for herself. With Lady Antebellum’s song, Downtown stuck in her head, she went about the shop straightening up the flowers. The shop had been fairly busy today. She wore a simple yellow dress, with short sleeves to cover her shoulders and two handy pockets in the front. Over her dress she wore a white apron that tied around her waist that had a large pocket sewn into the front. Her chocolate colored hair was pulled up in a lose bun this afternoon, and little wisps escaped from the clip.

While humming she set about pulling out a decent length of blue ribbon from the wall of multiple rows of flower decorations. Cutting it to just the right size, she placed it between her lips and grabbed a bucket with her left hand. With her right hand now free, she walked to the front of the store and slipped outside. The pleasant sound of a bell rang around her. The shop’s bell. She smiled. Her mother had always loved that bell. “There you are..” she mumbled, locating the row of yellow tulips she had on display outside today. With a triumphant smile she began to pile the flowers one by one into the bucket, only picking the ones with the best bloom potential.

As she was busy about her work, she happened to glance up. She didn’t know what made her do so, it wasn’t as if she didn’t do this every day. She had no reason to, she just did. What she saw made her pause, bucket in one hand, flowers in the other, ribbon in her mouth. Blinking as a curious owl would, she took in the sight of a black stretch limo pulling up to her store. Just then it began to drizzle. Luckily, she was standing under the outstretched awning of the shop so she wasn’t getting wet. Loading up the rest of the tulips, she slipped back into the shop. They weren't supposed to be here yet...

From the counter she could just barely make out the men through the large bay windows in the front of the store. Every once in a while she would curiously glance up and out of the window at them. The rain was coming down harder now, in thick sheets. Raindrops raced down the panes of the windows. Are they just going to stand out there…? Feeling a twisting in her gut, she sighed. The tulip arrangement was finished, and so was her work for the week, so she placed them in the fridge and then walked to the window. The sun was setting, and it was now a downpour out there. The men stood in the rain, stone faced. Upon further inspection she realized that they each had silver hearts in their necks; they were dolls.

With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed her yellow raincoat (Yes, she knows how silly it looks on her). Opening up the shop door, she stepped outside, under the awning. The rain was blowing at such an angle that she was still getting sprayed with bits of water that clung as droplets to her hair. “Hey! You weren't supposed to be here yet,” she called “I'm not exactly dressed yet!” The men didn't budge, forcing her lip down in a scowl. “At least come out of the rain!” Again, the men stood fast. She glanced across the sidewalk at a woman that was staring oddly at her. “Take a picture!” she called to the lady, a blush blooming in her cheeks. How silly she must look, standing in the rain in a bright yellow jacket. With a frustrated sigh, she went back into the shop to change into the outfit she had planned for the ball.

By the time she was ready, the rain had let up to only a faint drizzle. Olive slipped into the limo and glared at the woman in a business suit that she found waiting for her. There was that look again, the look that says I'm-sorry-you're-dying-oh-my-god-it-must-be-so-horrible. When they arrived at Heartland they were greeted by a wave of photographers. The urge to throw herself out of the nearest window grew with every flare of the paparazzi cameras. She was arriving for the ball earlier than everyone else to select her doll. There would be a part of the ball where they would be showcased in front of everyone. Wouldn't the paparazzi just love that; the dying girl and her charity doll. A part of her felt like she should be grateful, but the other part of her just felt like she was being used as an income source.

Olive followed the woman from the limo into Heartland, away from the flashing lights of the news crew. Olive was too busy looking around to really hear anything the woman was saying. Her attention was caught by a woman walking by with an unamused doll. The two looked to be bickering back and forth, despite the woman's Heartland attire. He was perfect. "Miss? Are- are you even listening to me?" "No, I'm not. Who is that?" The woman looked appalled. Olive figured that if she didn't have cancer, the woman would probably have liked to punch her. Good. Rage was an incredible feeling, one of the best. It made you feel the raw sting of life. That is Melody, a tech here, accompanying a doll. Apparently he escaped his dressing room this morning. Needs to be reprogrammed if you ask me." "I didn't ask you. I want to meet him."

After a short exchange, Olive was led to a waiting room that looked like a living room out of a Home and Garden magazine. The room was a little cozy, she noted. "We'll have to get him dressed," they had told her. "I can wait. All I've got is time, right?" They didn't laugh, but she did. A little cancer-humor, but apparently Heartland didn't see the funny side. Olive busied herself with inspecting the large picture of a naked tree hanging on the wall. The photograph reminded her of herself. Strong, steady, rooted, and dead. A voice cleared behind her, causing her to turn. There he was. He didn't look like any doll she had ever seen.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Character Portrait: Meora Character Portrait: Xander

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Xander Harrowgrove


"This way," Xander announced from further down the corridor after having led Emma through an intricate labyrinth, where hallways twisted and curled around each other in a serpent's embrace. Thankfully, he had always been a curious child, desperate to find the mysteries of his home and so, when young and left to his own devices, he had found himself wandering through this maze more often than not, which meant that he definitely wouldn't draw his new doll into a completely isolated tangle of rooms that they would never be able to escape from, (on an accidental account anyway). As they walked on, Emma trailing behind, their footsteps bounced from the floor, resonating off the walls and further and further through every walkway and window, a cloud of hard, cold noise ballooning upwards to consume the silence, a silence that had quickly ensued Xander's...episode.

Of course, he shouldn't have been so foolish as to raise his hand towards her; what was he thinking, that she would appreciate the gesture? That it would work like it did on every other girl? No! If anything, she had looked scared, or nervous even, not like she had 'appreciated the gesture' at all. He sighed - and that hush of sound seemed to shake the very foundations of the house too, though it was probably just his imagination. Well, he guessed it didn't matter; she was only a doll, a solution to solve, and once he was finished with her, father could send her away for all he cared! When he turned back to ensure that Emma was not too far behind, he instantly felt a sharp and breath-taking stab of guilty plunged between his ribs because...look at her: she was so afraid to be disowned, to be alone...How could he hurt such a creature? As her swimming blue eyes clashed with his, all he could manage was a weak smile in the hopes that it could, somehow, on any level whatsoever, fix the awkward quiet stretching for miles upon miles between them, like a deep black gulf.

Among other things, something that bothered Xander a hell of a lot was a humiliating drop in conversation, but he guessed that was why he was walking to Meora's room - that and the fact that Emma needs a new dress, he reminded himself, seeing as his little sister had probably the greatest dress-stashes in the entire world, possibly the universe, and there was bound to be something there that pleased his doll.

As they walked, side by side now, along the ornately decorated corridors, they eventually came across the double doors leading to Meora Harrowgrove's dress chamber. Hurriedly, so as not to prolong his embarrassment further, Xander flung open the doors with so much force that they could have clattered off their hinges and marched into the room to find his little sister, donned in her ballgown, surrounded by maids who waited on her hand and foot, staring at him with wide eyes.



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Character Portrait: Meora Character Portrait: Xander

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Meora Harrowgrove


Silver slid down Meora's body like the foamy tips of a crashing wave, and pooled at her feet, the fabric shushing and shimmering gently every time she made even the slightest of movements. Admiring herself, she watched the gleaming reflection that glinted at her from the mirror world, watched as its hands gripped the material, watched as it swished the dress about, light refracting throughout the long store of gown upon gown upon gown. Tidily her hair had been slipped from her face, slicked into a secure bun at the nape of her neck, coils of graphite-grey rope twisted, serpentine, across the red-ember tresses. Her face had been encrusted with scatters of glitter that caught the light in such a way that she seemed to be an ethereal star, fallen to earth, shining. It was perfect! This is exactly what she had wanted! Grinning at her handmaids, she suddenly erupted into a spinning body of elation, twirling and whirling on the spot until the sickly clutches of dizziness rattled her brain more than she could bear, her dance, a flurry of silver and sparkles, coming to a halt. Everything was perfect and the ball would be absolutely breath-taking and Soeri could not ruin a thing! So consumed with excitement, she could not hear the slap, slap, slap of footsteps against the carpeted corridors outside, nor the soft breathing and whispers of the two people behind the doorway.

Without prior warning, the chamber doors burst open, a breathe of air sweeping through the enormous room, blasting Meora's startled face with warm air that blew the fabric tightly against her body in a hushing, hissing mass. When she could finally blink open her eyes, squinted in surprise, she found her brother standing in the square cut of sunlight by the door, half-naked, smiling brilliantly at her.

"Brother?" She asked, smiling back at him, confusion laced in her wide eyes, "What is it you wa-?"

Disallowing her to finish, Xander rushed towards her, drawing his little sister into his arms quickly as though he had not spoken to her in a while, which she guessed was mildly true; father had kept her busy a lot this week...But that was no excuse for him to go about wrinkling her new robe! Hurriedly, Meora shoved him with as much force as she could allow herself to show - I cannot reveal too much of my secret strength, she thought, ashamed - enough to keep him a decent distance from her outfit.

"What do you think you're doing? This is my dress for the ball, Xander, and you're going to ruin it!" Snapped Meora, though she found a sly grin creeping along the corners of her lips secretively; she really had missed her elder brother.

"How could you? Preferring a mere frock to your dear, old brother?" Xander mocked her shocked expression teasingly, finding that his little sister playfully bat him away, "But it is a fine dress isn't it?" He leaned back, as if to examine her, "And you look simply divine in it, sister, if I may be so bold." At this he bowed before her, grinning jovially.

"Do you really like it?" Once more, Meora spun on the spot over and over again, loving the whisper of the gown as it caressed the air itself. As she danced about, she saw something flicker at the doorway. Was that red hair? Was there a scar marring that once-beautiful face? Soeri! She came to an abrupt halt, only to find that it was the doll Emma that stood there, Xander's doll, the vampire one. For seconds, all the girl could do was stare at her, nerved by her appearance. A doll. Just like herself. Could she sense that they were the same? Could she tell? Would she reveal this to Xander, to the world, to anyone? Panic bubbled like a hiccuping stream, unable to be suppressed.

Meora swallowed, "Xander...What is it that you and - and Emma want?"

Noticing his sister's anxious state, the man placed his hands on her shoulders gently, so as not to startle her, and spoke with a voice of silk, "The ball is soon, is it not? All dear Emma and I wanted was to borrow a dress, if you may be so kind as to lend us one? You would not mind would you?" The girl stared straight past him, into those wide, nervous eyes and forced a gentle smile, despite that her blood was also trembling within her veins.

"Of course, that's fine, brother."

"Excellent!" Xander swiftly turned to look at his Emma and Meora felt the flutters of butterflies swarm riotously as both dolls' gazes accidentally collided. Embarrassed, she turned away to her handmaids, not daring to venture yet another look in that direction, as Xander led the other doll into the treasure trove of ballgowns.

"Here, this is the red section! You can pick any one that you like, love, alright?"

All the while, Meora could feel the cold, prickling sensation of someone's eyes boring holes into the back of her head, but she could not tell who they belonged to, only that they sent shivers up her spine like the clattering keys of a piano.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annabelle 'Ivy' Smithson Character Portrait: Garret

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Image “I doubt that will happen.” Ivy suddenly responded to Aunt Kelley's final comment. When garret looked up at her with wide eyes, surprised and grateful that she'd said it, he could see that she was glaring at the red-headed woman. “But if you ever regret selling him, don’t contact us.”

Garret found himself smiling at the blue-haired girl, relieved and ecstatic that she'd even say something like that. She actually wanted him! She liked him, that meant? He didn't know what to do with himself. In fact, he more or less wanted to hug the girl in his gratitude and excitement, but held back because he wasn't sure the girl's feelings on touching and maybe she'd change her mind if he tried it, so he decided against the action.

Ivy's father was about to comment to her, probably to chastise her harsh demeanor, or say that she was being disrespectful, but Ivy simply turned to garret, not paying attention to him. “Let’s go,” She said, promptly grabbing him by the wrist and leading him along with her before any more words could be said on the matter. They were quickly out of the family room, through the hall and out onto the front lawn in no time, and Garret couldn't help but fidget with the hem of his sweater with his free hand from excitement. What was he going to do? He wondered what his new owner's home would be like. What the ball would be like. What would she want him to do for her? He'd never had many responsibilities at his first owner's home, but that was because she had treated him more like a son, seeing as he was a replacement for one. His biggest job at Kelley's home was to stay out of the way and do little jobs where no one could see him. Sure, it was supposed to be some big privilege to own a doll, but all her friends and guests had known of the real Garret, and having him around had just been an embarrassment most of the time. Garret was fully aware of it, too. Sometimes he just wished things were simpler, and that he was real Garret. At least he wouldn't be such a disappointment, then.

Before he knew it, Ivy had dropped his wrist, and she simply bounced on her feet as they waited the return of her father, in order to leave, Garret presumed. She gave Garret the sweet, kind look of an apology. “Sorry about that.” He couldn't help but tilt his head at her. Why should she be sorry? He felt so grateful that she'd stuck up for him, when he knew he couldn't do it for himself. He simply smiled at her, as if it conveyed that whatever she was sorry for, he didn't mind in the least.

There was a short pause, before she spoke again. “I’m also really sorry about your pictures.” She said, and this time Garret ducked his head, feeling a little down about the subject. All those things that would never be seen again, the memory lost, the paper it was printed on destroyed, waiting to be burned by Kelley's fire. It made him sad, really, and he almost didn't want to think about it. He looked back at Ivy a moment and his eyes widened as she pulled something from her pocket; one of the photographs, fully intact, having fallen from the pile. She must have stowed it in her pocket when they'd been pulled out of the couch. She studied it for a while before handing it over to Garret.

He took it in both hands with wide eyes and a slight smile. This one showed the man in the funny yellow track suit, and the woman just beginning to come around the corner with her stroller. He liked this one.

“She really shouldn’t have done that, she had no right.”

He frowned momentarily, still studying the image. "Well, she did, actually. She had all the right she wanted to do that. I'm a doll, so I don't have rights to any private properties. When my first owner passed away, most everything got taken away from me. I just got the clothes that I already had, and I got split up with the rest of her property. So... Technically, I guess those picture's were Aunt Kelley's to do with what she pleased."

He sighed, trying to shrug it off like it was no bit deal. He studied the picture a little longer, before suddenly smiling. This picture was still here, at least that was something. And he didn't want to make his new owner upset! So, widening his smile and looking at her, he tried to make the situation a little more positive.

"It's okay, though!" Garret said to her. "This one is here, and you know what? It's my new favorite! The one my new owner saved for me!"

He bit his lip shyly for a moment, trying to remember something else. He... He wanted to say something to her, didn't he? What was it? He knew it related to what he wanted to say to her now, and he figured he should say them both at the same time. Oh, how forgetful he was being! All this excitement was so distracting, and he had to focus to keep on track. That's it! He wanted to give his gratitude to her.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, finally. "For this, for everything."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Adrian Alistair Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish Character Portrait: Mika Taylor Character Portrait: Belton Reily Character Portrait: Jayson 'Jay' Miako Character Portrait: Kellan-Leigh Character Portrait: Jayden Anastos

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нαу∂єη ναℓкуяιє

Image "I am alright, my Lord," Mika responded, and Hayden nodded, giving a light smile at the affirmation.

"Good, I'm glad," He responded, giving a slightly bashful look that he'd continued the action for so long, and looking apologetic. "I know I was holding on quite tightly for a while there."

"When we were walking...." Mika suddenly commented, dropping that girlish voice down a little lower, making it a bit softer to avoid anyone listening in. Hayden dropped the bashful smile, slightly worried about the new topic, and slightly just surprised that it would be brought up as if it were such a pressing issue. "Are you in pain, my Lord?" Hayden watched as his knight's eyes trailed down to his torso, and self-consciously, Hayden put his hand over the spot where he'd felt the deepest pain, the center of his mid-section, just above the navel.

He bit his lip a moment before shaking his head in denial of any pain, before finally giving his old friend a smile, as if that would eliminate any doubt from his Knight's mind that he was perfectly fine. He dropped his hand from it's place and shoved it in the pockets of his pastel teal shorts.

"I'm alright, now," He said, his voice matching Mika's whisper, though keeping it upbeat and carefree. "It was nothing, really! The pain's all but gone now. But..." He hesitated, shifting his weight on his feet while he looked over his shoulder at the others in the room for a moment. The girl with the pink hair was calm enough, it seemed. The boy with the red hair looked like the situation was getting mighty heavy for him, and then the boy with black hair had suddenly begun to wander around. The others, likewise, were doing other things, very similar to the three basic concepts; absolutely nothing, freaking the fuck out, and taking a look around the place. He looked back at his knight as soon as he was sure that they were going to keep their fucking distance.

"I don't think I want anyone touching me," He said, and his hands were drawn from his pockets so that he could cross his arms, trying to play the comment off as a selfish one, rather than a fearful one. "Not without my permission, anyway, and not unless I can either see them doing it, or they tell me first."

He bit his lip, his position suddenly becoming a little more relaxed while he brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, a bit uncomfortable with what he knew he was about to say.

"I," He began, a little shaky about bringing up the topic. "Well, I... I would announce the rule to everyone quite blatantly, but I don't know if you even enforce that in your current condition?" His eyes widened slightly in realization that he probably should have just forgotten about saying that part, and that it was probably incredibly rude to be reminding his knight of his problem. "I'm sorry, does that sound insensitive to your situation??"

He sighed, before looking back at everyone else again, though he kept his words aimed at Mika. "I guess there's not much to do, anyway, until we take some time to figure things out and all. I'll try to assess more and make a plan with you tonight when everyone else is asleep." I don't think I'll be able to get to sleep anyway, he thought to himself. Not with all these people in the same place, he couldn't. Not when he didn't trust them, and certainly not when they could easily just be a hop skip and a jump away from sneaking up on him and doing... something. He wasn't sure what, but that was part of what made the idea even more uneasy. Especially when just a touch gave him such a reminder of his death. Never seeing his killer, and never seeing it coming, really did a number on his mental state.

"For now, at least," He continued, his voice no longer very hushed, as the words were not quite so important. "I wonder if there's any food around."

And he suddenly decided that he'd join the number that was wandering.

There was a short hall before the area opened up into a kitchen-dining area. The kind like peasants have, Hayden noted, as his old home was a palace with many dining halls and a big kitchen with an eating area designated only for staff to have their meals. But perhaps all homes were like this now-a-days, who could say. The table sported a bowl of fruit, and as he passed over to the cabinet-covered wall, he snatched a green apple from the top, biting into it as he took a place in front of a big white closet. Pulling on the handle, and opening it, however, he felt a shiver go down his spine, the blast of cold emanating from inside the closet was almost unbearable to his delicate new flesh, and though he took note of the foods inside, he shut the door quickly, deciding that he didn't want anything that cold in the first place.

He left the kitchen after, as he needed no investigation to tell him that there would be no knives sitting around the kitchen, and jumping slightly when he heard the sudden sound of rushing water, but passing it up as he spied the black haired boy playing with the running water which flowed from a pipe in what appeared to be the room designated for getting clean and revealing oneself. He took another bite of the apple, deciding to pass into one of the other rooms, which sat just beyond an interesting door with wavy glass panels settled in white wood. The thick glass's texture made the faint colors from beyond the door visible, but the actual objects inside were not. It seemed that the other doors were the same.

Hayden plopped down on the fluffy white comforter of the bed closest to the door for a moment, running his free hand on the linens, and almost amazed at the softness, and the high quality material. At least it would be nice to lay in, even if he wouldn't be getting much sleep. When his eyes trailed to the wall in front of him, now, he took note of the two big dressers, and the black rectangle mounted on the wall in between them. What was that even for? He stood, making his way over to it and feeling around the edges until his hands ran into some notches. They seemed to be... press-able. So, as any typical person would, he pushed the buttons, and jolted back as the screen flashed on, offering a little lady in a towel as she shaved her legs with the oddest smile on her face until she suddenly gained a look of pain, the screen turned black and white, and a deep voice offered, "Are you tired of getting cut shaving?"

Hayden pressed another of the buttons, and the channel changed. Now, the screen offered something else. This setting seemed to be darker, and gave an air of mystery. The two men, splattered in blood with weapons in their hands traveled along the side of a black road, going back and forth about something they were hunting. The little symbol in the corner of the screen said 'supernatural,' and Hayden was sure that everything about the box was surely supernatural in itself. He pressed the button which had turned it on once again, and watched as it clicked off. He'd surely ask Dr. Katelyn about what the box was when he spoke with her later.

Turning back to the bed he'd been sitting on and taking another bite of the apple, he spied at the light-wooded headboard, noticing a little sliver plaque which had been slid into place that offered a name on it. After speaking with Katelyn, it seemed they must have retrieved the names of the people they were pulling into new bodies, at the very least. Those were probably in those files. Perhaps though, it was only the first names? He noted as he noticed the singular name on the silver plaque in all capital letters. This one... This one belonged to him! What luck to have stumbled upon his own, he noted, though suddenly he began to panic. They had assigned beds? He glanced at the other bed in the room, and didn't recognize the name as belonging to his Knight. He didn't process whose name it was, but the fact that it didn't belong to Mika filled him with dread and paranoia.

He bit his lip, wandering until he managed to find Mika again. He gave the boy in a girl's body a serious look, and though it seemed like the kind of complaint a young child would make, he stated it with complete dread for the situation. Who knew which one of these mental cases he was going to be sharing with! Not that he wasn't a mental case himself, he supposed, but it still was cause to worry with his current situation of ghost pain and fear.

"This is terrible," He stated. "There are assigned beds and we aren't sharing a room."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annabelle 'Ivy' Smithson Character Portrait: Garret

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Ivy Smithson

“Thank you! For this, for everything.” Garret said ecstatically to Ivy. She smiled at him, glad he was so happy that he had a new owner. …But, was that all she was going to be to him? Sure, at the moment she was probably just a silly blue haired girl that had bought him, but she didn’t want to be just his owner. She didn’t want him sucking up to her or trying his hardest to make her happy. She wanted Garret to be…Garret. Nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Everything he had explained to Ivy made her feel a little bad for him. He believed that, because Kelley had been his owner, that she could do anything she wanted to his things. Doll or not, if she was him she’d probably slap the woman.
At least he wouldn’t deal with her anymore.

Her father still hadn’t appeared which meant he was either apologizing or chatting with her, probably both. Ivy smiled at Garret again, running a hand through her hair.

“You really shouldn’t thank me.” She said jokingly, “When you meet the rest of my family you might try to run for it.”

While she was joking, there was some truth to her words. Her family was dysfunctional, completely. Her mother was never home, in and out of therapies and rehabs for her drug problems. Two older brothers that were never home and if they were it was because they needed money. She didn’t mind Mason, he was fine. Most of the time he used his money for his studies and because he didn’t have a job he would ask them for food money. Derek was another story. When he came to the house, he was either drunk or kicked out of his latest girlfriend’s home. And of course, Ivy normally was locked away in her room avoiding everyone but her dad. She looked at Garret, smiling.

“Sadly, there are going to be rules.” She said, “But they’re not mine, their dad’s.” She rolled her eyes as she thought of them.
“Typically, sense you’re, eh, male,” She said, shifting, “My dad will be a little weird with his rules.”

“My rules aren’t weird,” Her father rumbled behind her, a grin on his face as Ivy jumped, having been unaware he was standing behind her, “They are going to keep you out of trouble and you,” He pointed at Garret, “ In line.”

Ivy shook her head, walking beside and behind Garret, “What could he possibly do? He’s like a puppy, cute and harmless.” She said with a grin.

Her father ignored her comment, “ Neither of you are allowed in each other’s rooms after ten, and if you are, the door must be open.” He said, crossing his arms, “Always come home around nine if you’re out, and don’t be idiots. No drugs or alcohol, be good. ”

“Wow, dad, so strict.” Ivy said with sarcasm and good humor, “But I doubt that will happen. Also, I have one rule.” She said, looking at Garret, “Simply put, be yourself.” She gave a friendly squeeze on Garret’s shoulder.

Her father ushered them into the car, and soon they were off, leaving the house and Garret’s home. She didn’t know what would be at home waiting for them, hopefully relatively quiet. Ivy’s house was a quaint cottage, two stories and almost free of nosy neighbors. It was a fifteen minute walk from the nearest Starbucks and certainly reserved. While the outside suggest that it belonged in a fairy tale, the inside was certainly modern. Each bedroom had its own TV and bathroom, and because only two people lived there most, that made three bedrooms inhabited. One was a guest room, now it was Garret’s.

She tucked her feet underneath her, looking over at Garret. She wondered what he thought of all this, was it overwhelming for him? How would he adjust to her house and her family? Honestly, it was lonely because her father worked and nobody else bothered coming home. What would it be like with another person around, and not just her and the cat?
She looked at Garret, smiling, maybe, just maybe, he might actually like his new home.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isaac Character Portrait: Adina "Adi"

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α∂ιηα "α∂ι"

Image "Thank you." Isaac said after a short pause. Adina turned his head to look at the other boy, and smiled at the expression he saw, that calm, thoughtful, grateful look. Adi was just glad that he had been able to offer any assistance at all, and that his words had been understandable.

Adi leaned against the tree trunk, pleased with himself, and thankful to the other doll in a different sort of way. Sort of like being thankful that Isaac was thankful, perhaps. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure, himself, but that was okay. He didn't mind it. He watched as the other boy shifted his position suddenly, and the comforting hand that Isaac had placed over Adi's had retreated. Adi had barely noticed the hand when it had wrapped around his, and suddenly, now that it was gone, he wanted it back, though instead of making a move to grab it back, he placed both his hands down into his own laps and straightened out the hem of his tee-shirt dress, which had begun to ride up slightly. Even if the boy was hardly a 'friend' and he hardly knew him in the least, and even if he felt good about being able to answer the boy's questions, it didn't cover up his loneliness. Evan and Brittany were doing their jobs, and other dolls were in and out with barely a glance. Adi was all alone, in the end, really, and soon he'd be gone. Without getting an owner, he'd be gone for good.

He couldn't help but let out a little sigh.

"How's your caretaker?" Isaac asked, breaking the pause, and Adi was glad for the new statement to be distracting him from his thoughts. "Mine's real peppy. Likes to dress me up all the time."

Adi smiled at the thought, thinking about how someone peppy like that would probably be a difficult mix for Isaac, seeing as his personality seemed much more laid back and solemn. Brittany's sort of like that, He thought. Maybe a little more high-strung than peppy, though. And Evan lets me get away with everything. Isaac turned his face towards Adi, and Adi opened his mouth to give his answer, before suddenly being interrupted by the arrival of who must've been Isaac's caretaker.

"Isaac. What's gotten into you?" She called, and Adina shut his trap, not wanting to reply with his warden right there. No need to aggravate her anymore by continuing.

"Hi Mel." Isaac had replied, looking at his caretaker with a guilty smile. At least, Ad thought it was guilty-looking.

The woman continued on chastising the doll, ignoring Adi and knowing that there was no helping Adi's bad habits. After all, Adi was programmed with a desire to be adventurous and have a need to wander. Staying in a room was actually bad for his set personality. Soon, the girl was pulling Isaac up from the ground, though, and despite Isaac's attempt to make an excuse for going outside and disobeying, which probably didn't make any sense since people skills were almost irrelevant when dealing with a doll which had almost no people skills like Adi did, she gave him a stern look and began dragging him away, stating that she had to hurry to get him ready for the ball now, and that he better do as he told or whatever. Adi had tuned out of the conversation, drawing up his knees to his chin and hugging his legs in close.

He tried to focus his attention elsewhere, because now he was feeling even more lonely, though he couldn't help but glance back just before 'Mel' dragged the other doll through the door. Isaac had twisted around, and gave a parting wave to him, and Adina couldn't help but smile at the action.

"Best of luck, Adi." He called, giving a quick little smile before disappearing through the door.

Adina rested his cheek against his knees, eyes on the door that his almost-friend had parted through while he pondered the statement. Best of luck, huh? It was the same kind of statement as 'Good Luck', he was almost sure. He was wishing him luck with something. Maybe he detected Adina's reservations around the statement of Isaac leaving, putting two and two together and seeing that Adi had no thoughts that he would ever have hope of being repurchased very quickly. Maybe he wished him luck for that. Or maybe it was just luck in general, that things would be good for him. Either way, though he felt happiness that the boy had the nice thought for him, he hardly thought the thought alone would be helpful for him.

"Well, weren't you just being the little gentleman and showing your new friend all your bad habits?"

Adina picked up his head and came face to face with Evan, who was now crouching in front of him with a half-finished cigarette perched between his lips. It was a good thing that he looked, actually, because after such a long conversation, he almost ended up answering the man, and that would have been going against what Adi had decided when he'd decided that Evan and Brittany would be getting no more words. Instead, he simply nodded his response. Sure, he didn't quite see how his escaping was really a bad habit, and he didn't see how showing him around was going to influence the habits onto the other doll or anything, but yes, essentially, that had been what was going on.

"You did realize he wasn't wearing any pants, right?"

Adina nodded again. The answer to this question needed no explanation in the least.

"Alright then," Evan replied, shrugging. "Well, I think it's about time you went back to get ready for the ball, too. Brittany is probably going to start looking if you don't show up soon. So are you gonna come up with me or am I going to have to carry you up?"

Adina threw up his arms over his head, dropping his knees down flat to the ground so that Evan could get at his waste. In other words, yes. Evan would most certainly have to carry him. Evan sighed, giving a defeated look, and Adina couldn't help but smile at that. Evan would give in though. He almost always gave in, and it was his fault for offering in the first place.

"Alright, alright," He muttered, scooping his arms around the small doll and hefting him upward. In the end, Adina was partially over Evan's shoulder, arms wrapped around the tall scientist's neck and grabbing fist-fulls of the young man's lab coat, with one of Evan's hands scooped under Adi's butt, and the other rested on Adi's back. Adi rested his cheek down on Isaac's shoulder, head turned away from him and watching the scenery shift as he was carried towards the door. "You really are too much, Adi." Adi could feel a shift in Evan's body, and assumed it to be him shaking his head. "You're lucky you're cute."

Adi smiled, offering a little huff in reply, before letting the silence spread between them. He didn't need any more talking from Evan. In fact, he preferred if the man stayed quiet.

They passed through the ballroom as a short-cut, which was situated in the inside area of the ground floor, and was where the big events like this were held. The rich red colors and tapestries were meant to look elegant, and the tables with centerpieces that featured the Heartland Logo were just getting their finishing touches on the middle of the white table cloths. The last of the little reservation cards were being set on the tables. But as soon as the ballroom was there, it was gone again, and they were through the doors and back to the familiar, light-colored surroundings.

"Oh, good! You found him!"

It was Brittany's voice.

Adina's eyes shot open. He hadn't even remembered shutting them, but he must have fallen asleep on the trip back up to his room. That was fine, but he wondered if he'd missed anything on the trip. Perhaps Evan had said something, but it was too late to know now. Evan was plopping him back down on the single bed he was accustomed to, before taking a look back at Brittany.

"Yeah, he went outside again. No big deal," He said.

Adina rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, before taking a deep breath. Brittany was wearing a short, black cocktail dress, now. On the side of it, the heartland logo had been embroidered with white gems. Her short blonde hair was slicked back. Since Adina wasn't part of the group of auction dolls, he'd be accompanied by her so that she could lure in people to try and buy him. They wanted to use one of the people that were familiar with Adina and could give buyers some good reasons to purchase, and Evan would never have been able to do it. Just last week, he came into work wearing slippers, and his shirt was inside out, for Pete's sake.

"Well, yeah, you couldn't have brought him back sooner, then, you ass?" She retorted. Without waiting for an answer, however, she simply shooed him out the door, knowing that he would only further waist her time. She had to focus on getting Adina ready. Walking over to him, she started off by pulling the bun and the french braid out of his hair, raking her hands through it to give it a nice, messy-stylish wave. "And as for you, you couldn't have just stayed put for once?"

Adina shook his head, and she quickly went over to the hook on the wall to grab the dress Adina had picked out earlier.

"Yeah, I thought not," She said, sighing. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

It didn't take very long for her to have him all dolled up, slight-wavy hair pushed over to one side and makeup done in natural tones like brown and gold. She even glossed his lips, which she didn't do very often. But hey, this was a special event... or whatever. Honestly, Adina figured that she just wanted to make him look as pretty as possible so that someone would look past the damage and buy him. Everything was strategic. A bracelet over a wound on his wrist, a necklace to take the eyes away from the ruined emblem, his hair almost covering the scar on his forehead. All Brittany needed was for them to take a first look, and she could talk them up from there. Though, even with that Logic, Adina knew that it was going to be difficult for her.

"Come on," She prompted, looking at her watch. "People are going to be filling into the ballroom any minute, and some of the early birds are probably here already."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olive Dawn Croft Character Portrait: Isaac

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“I just wanted to—“
“Wanted to what, Isaac? It doesn’t look good on me when you misbehave.” Melody wasn’t letting this one go so easily. She had him tight by the arm, and her face was rosy.
“Quiet, Isaac. Please.” She snapped. He went silent, ducking his head slightly. He hated it when she did that. She knew exactly what to say to make him shut his trap. His expression waned dour and he shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “You know better than this, Isaac. Honestly, I didn’t think you were unruly enough to run out without any pants.”
Those words were enough for his programming to accept that he was allowed to speak again. “I just wanted to know what it’s like, because you don’t tell me anything.” He said in a loud voice, speaking over her attempts to cut him off.
“There’s better ways to go about it.” She said sternly.
“I’ve been stuck in the same room for my whole life; I think I deserve a bit of freedom for once, Melody.”
“Oh shoot, when did all these people get here?” Melody mumbled, pulling on his arm to make them walk faster as they crossed through one of the main hallways.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything.” Isaac shot back, even though he was quite aware that she wasn’t talking to him.
“Just be quite, Isaac, and hurry up befo-“ She began to chide before another voice cut in.

One of the officials was escorting a woman, and the woman was staring at him. ‘Who is that’ she’d asked. Isaac stared right back at her. Who was she? Melody halted as the official said her name, and narrowed his eyes with a deep frown as that woman said that he should be reprogrammed. He’d just received an order to be quiet, or he would have retorted. The other woman did so just fine though, much to his satisfaction. She wanted to meet him? Well, he could live with that. She seemed a feisty soul. He felt a shiver run up his spine as he recalled all that Adi had told him. This could be his chance to get out of here. She didn’t seem half bad. He just couldn’t mess this up.

He was pushed around a bit as everyone suddenly switched gears. “We’ll need to get him dressed” The official woman said with a pointed look at Melody. Isaac glanced down at his legs. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t wearing any pants, but the fact that had made him so shy with Adi, a peer, now made him cocky under the hand of authority. He was being autonomous. He’d chosen not to wear pants. He was different. Ha. Melody pulled him away, looking slightly surprised. He turned his head to continue looking at the woman as he was pulled away. Why him? This was his new burning question. He wanted to know. She’d not talked to him; she’d only just seen him. In his own opinion he wasn’t much to look at; any of the dolls here was likely as handsome as he especially considering that he was just a storefront model, run of the mill. He was basic, a sparring amount of art done just to show how his skin reacted to it.

“Listen close.” Mel said as they rode the elevator back up to his room. “Behave yourself. If you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything. Even if it doesn’t work out, this will be your practice run, got it. You must be polite and respectful.” She instructed him as he pulled his hoodie over his head. Another scientist joined him, the clothes he was meant to wear to the Ball in her arms. They didn’t let him do anything himself, holding him still as they pulled his outfit together on him as if he was a breathing manikin. In a matter of minutes he was standing stiffly and Mel was buttoning up his suit. He did not look amused whatsoever. Wearing the restrictive clothing was a large change from running around without pants and a loose hoodie, and he didn’t like it. He felt like he was going to be strangled if he moved just an inch wrong.

Mel proceeded to usher him back down the elevator and to the room where the woman was waiting. Olive Croft. That was the only thing Mel told him, though she apparently already knew the woman for some reason or another. Said woman was examining a picture, her back to the pair. Before Mel could say anything Isaac cleared his throat, making the woman turn. He shifted slightly, turning away from Melody so he could unbutton the heavy black jacket, loosen the tie, and breath a bit better. He stared at the woman the faintest quirks of a question on his face.

“This is Isaac.” Melody spoke up after a second, her babying voice on. He couldn’t tell if it was for his sake or the woman’s, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless. Neither of them were children, though he was only a few days old. “He a standard make. His body is a year old, and he was activated three days ago.” Melody told the woman. Then she nudged him, urging him to speak. He did not for a second, continuing to stare at her. “Why me?” He finally asked. “ Because if you think I’m going to be a complacent little servant you’d be best suited elsewhere.” His voice was perfectly polite, and there was no steel in his expression, he looked as morosely serious as ever. It would be better to let her know now rather than let her take him home then send him right back, right? Melody made a sharp sound of annoyance from right behind him, but he ignored her, still focused on the woman before him.

“Isaac, you will behave.” She hissed. “She let out a bit of strained laughter towards the customer. “He’s not usually like this; he’s just a bit restless today.” She explained, as if that would heal the situation.

The trigger caused Isaac’s mouth to snap shut, but he still had that slightly challenging, intense gaze directed at the woman before him. He would pay no mind of Melody. She didn’t know what it was like. She would never know what it was like to be a doll. He would rather ruin his chances with someone who would try and rule over him than live a silent, miserable, subservient life. He wanted to live, to experience life, but not if he was quashed in the process.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olive Dawn Croft Character Portrait: Isaac

0.00 INK

#, as written by Jynxii


Olive's eyes searched over the doll in front of her as his keeper, 'Melody', according to her name tag, introduced him. Isaac. A biblical name. “He's a standard make. His body is a year old, and he was activated three days ago.” Olive absorbed the information, marveling at the science behind it all. Only a year old; and yet here stood a full grown man. Magical.. and yet, science could breathe life into inanimate objects and do nothing to save her own. A flicker of sadness washed over her hues as she watched Melody gently nudge her project. "Why me," he all but blurted, causing a small, knowing smile to settle on Olive's lips. She had asked herself that question countless times when she was diagnosed with cancer. It didn't seem like such a hard question to answer, and yet no one seemed to have one.

“Because if you think I’m going to be a complacent little servant you’d be best suited elsewhere.” He wasn't rude about it, but his face was stern. Olive smiled a little more, reminded of a three-year-old. So young, and so ready to take on the world. “Isaac, you will behave,” Melody hissed, and then added to Olive, "He’s not usually like this; he’s just a bit restless today.” Olive glanced between the two of them, "Would it be alright if I had a moment alone with you?" Her blue orbs looked onto Isaac, ignoring his keeper. Trusting that he would either ask Melody to leave, or that Melody would realize she was being dismissed, Olive turned and took a seat on the long couch beside the large windows.

After Melody had excused herself Olive gently touched the empty seat beside her. "Sit with me?" She turned her attention to the male doll, examining him carefully as he moved and reacted. Obviously there was some sort of thought process going on behind those hues of his, as she had witnessed earlier with Melody in the room. "My name is Olive. I'm sure they already told you that," she began, ignoring his question and statement for now. "Have they told you why I'm here? No? Well. We'll get back to that, then. In regard to your question... Why you?" A smile toyed with her lips again, a kind, tired smile. "I'll be honest with you, Isaac, I've never had a doll before so you'll have to learn with me I suppose. Are you not suppose to try and win me over? Not the other way around?"

There was a small twinkle in her eye, something hidden and playing behind the walls of her blue depths. "Truth is, I've chosen you at random, because I believe in fate. As to being a... how did you put it? 'Complacent little servant'? Well, I'll have you know I am capable of driving through McDonalds myself." Her smile bloomed into a grin as she added, "I'm not dead just yet." Her smile slowly melted away, as she added, "Of course, that is to say, that once I am... everything I own will go to you. It's not a small responsibility. I have a flower shop, and a bakery, and I will expect you to be able to run both of them before I leave. I'm afraid that there isn't much time for me to teach you everything you'll need to know.."

She trailed off, beginning to look very sad. "I chose you, Isaac, because I saw in you something that I don't see in the, how did she put it? 'Standard make' dolls. Believe me, I've seen plenty of them, and I'm not interested. Of course, I did choose you at random so for all I know you could be just as dreadfully boring and brainless... Tell me, Isaac.. are you boring and brainless?" The smile that had once again found it's way onto her features suggested she already knew the answer.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Character Portrait: Meora Character Portrait: Xander

0.00 INK

#, as written by Jynxii
Emma Swann


Emma followed behind Xander quietly as he seemed to do that inner battle thing he was so prone to do when she was around. Did she really stress him out that much? Helplessly, she quietly walked behind him as he weaved her further and further into the house until she was hopelessly lost. They came upon a set of large double doors, and before she could ask why they had come here Xander left her side and burst through the doors. An explosion of noise and color left Emma standing in the door way, dazed and confused. "Brother?" The voice was feminine and familiar, "What is it you wa-?" Meora started, but Xander cut in as he bounced across the room and scooped the stunningly beautiful woman into his arms.

Her dress was like starlight, bottled up and weaved into fabric specifically for her. It wouldn't have surprised Emma at all if her father had commanded God to send down the glittering objects to adorn his daughter. As far as Emma knew, the world began and ended with Meora... at least Xander's world did, and that meant that Emma's would too. Meora made a pitiful attempt to shove him away from her precious outfit, earning her a look of mock shock from her elder sibling. "What do you think you're doing? This is my dress for the ball, Xander, and you're going to ruin it," scolded the sister, though Emma caught a glimpse of the smile toying with her lips. Emma couldn't blame her; attention from Xander was both embarrassing and intoxicating for her so Emma could only imagine what it would be like to have a brother fawning over her.

"How could you? Preferring a mere frock to your dear, old brother?" Her owner gasped, pretending to be offended though it was clear he was in a playful mood. The two exchanged more banter that Emma tuned out of. It wasn't until Meora was staring at her as if she had eaten half the wait staff that Emma noticed she was no longer invisible. Emma watched the girl's emotional exchange, noting the way her arms stiffened, her back straightened, and her voice became ever so higher. Emma glanced to Xander, unsure what she had done wrong, and remained awkwardly in the doorway.

"Xander...What is it that you and - and Emma want?" Meora asked, clearly set on edge. Emma swallowed, unnerved by putting the heiress on edge. Would she make Emma leave? Would Xander not want her anymore? What had she done to upset the mistress so much? "The ball is soon, is it not? All dear Emma and I wanted was to borrow a dress, if you may be so kind as to lend us one? You would not mind would you?" Her owner answered the question with a voice like warm honey, soothing and gentle. Meora just stared straight past him, her eyes burning into Emma's as she forced a smile. Emma smiled weakly back, unsure if speaking would help or make the girl faint. "Of course, that's fine, brother." "Excellent!"

Emma felt her stomach turn over as Xander rushed over and took her hand to lead her away. At that moment, her eyes connected with Meora's for only a moment. Emma blinked, confused at what she saw, but she quickly dismissed it. "Thank you, Miss Meora... your dress really is beautiful," Emma said quietly as Xander led her past the frightened heiress and into the massive closet- no, dress warehouse.

"Here, this is the red section! You can pick any one that you like, love, alright?" Xander had called her love again, and just like that; everything was right in the world again. She could forget about his creepy sister, with her judgmental and terrified stares, and she could focus on finding a beautiful red dress for the evening. Emma tried on dress after dress, showing each one to Xander; but all she got in responses were 'beautiful', 'perfect', 'enchanting'. He was complimenting all of the dresses and she was flattered and amused. Perhaps if they could just spend the rest of the night in the dressing room, instead of having to attend the ball? Xander didn't want to go anyway...

Knowing that would never happen, she finally decided on a dress. Blushing and smiling over her shoulder at him, she spun once, twice, and on the third spin she landed against his chest, grinning up at him. "This is the one," she giggled, "please, please?" It wasn't red, but in it she looked like a sexy Ariel and she felt wonderful. She couldn't help but grin as the maid that was in the room brought over the shoes and purse that matched the outfit. "Oh, say you love it," she nearly squealed, taking a slight step back so he could get another look at the outfit. "I know I said red, but this is just too perfect," she sighed happily.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish Character Portrait: Mika Taylor

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Mika Taylor

Mika examined his king closely, the worry evident on the gentle curve of his features. Hayden lifted a pale hand to his midsection, right where the...wound...had been. The male shook his head after a decisive moment, and Mika relaxed slightly. But still, there had been a significant reaction, and he wanted to know what had caused his Majesty's discomfort. Though he wasn't in much a state to do anything, he still had to do his best to serve his king no matter what. The whisper sounded light enough and Mika could do nothing but believe his king. The trailed off words gave him a pause for a moment. What was wrong? Panic spiked in his system for a moment.

Then Hayden spoke again, folding his arms over his chest with a bit of his old haughtiness. Didn't want to be touched? Mika could understand that. hey couldn't trust any of the others anyway, it would probably be best to stay as far away from them as they could. The mannerism also soothed him a bit. If Hayden was back to normal then things would be fine. "Yes, your Majesty." He agreed, falling back to old habits. For a quiet lad he'd always been most agreeable when it came to his King.

Hayden continued with words that made Mika grimace slightly. It was true, of course, he was in no state to protect his king, not until he got used to this body. "You are fine, your Majesty." he said, dipping his head. He didn't like these apologies. He wasn't deserving of them anyway. "I will start training to accustom myself to this body and alert you when I am sufficiently prepared to enforce what you wish." He would train with every ounce of his strength, do everything he could to get used to this new centre of balance.

His Majesty kept looking behind him as if tracking the other occupants of the room, which put Mika on his guard, his own eyes darting from one perfect figure to another. They were all beautiful china figures and it was abhorrent to think that he looked just the same as them. thankfully most of them seemed on the taller side, which meant he could utilize his own height and work out some strategies to make it an advantage. He turned his green-eyed attention to his King again as the male spoke. A night of planning sounded like a wise decision. It would give them an opportunity to catch their bearings and clear their minds. And scope out the potential threats. Mika nodded obediently, his mind already darting. Hayden's voice returned to a normal level and Mika watched anxiously as his King turned and walked away. His first instinct was to follow, but he wasn't sure if Hayden wanted him to or not. He didn't want to smother his King, though he was extremely anxious as to the male's health, especially in this strange place. He stood restlessly for a moment, casting about in all directions. His gaze settled briefly on the pink haired woman. He'd felt her eyes settle on him more than once. There was something unsettling about her. He would have to keep an eye out for that one.

His gaze had rested on the woman for a moment, but it quickly fluttered away to alight on all the strange thing she saw around him. What was this ethereal place? He'd paid little attention to anything in his surroundings, but perhaps it would be wise to familiarize himself with everything and gain control of his body at the same time. He gingerly walked to examine the black box mounted on the wall, stretching up to tap it with his manicured nails. It made a strange sound. Glass. It was made of glass and something...else. He couldn't place it. It wasn't metal, but it seemed to hold similar properties, judging by the shine. He tipped his head at it for a moment before turning to examine the snowy furniture. They were of a curious material, impossibly soft but firm to the touch. He cautiously settled into one, remembering a moment too late that he was wearing a dress and his legs needed to be together. He quickly crossed his delicate ankles and looked around.

After a few seconds he began stretching slowly and systematically, testing out the new alignment of his muscles. His back especially felt weird to stretch, muscles moving in slightly different ways. He checking his arm range, which was limited by his breasts. He'd have to become strong enough to dual wield if he wanted all his range back. And he needed to find or craft some weapons as well. These hands were too delicate to do any decent hand to hand combat. The body was much better suited to stealth, though that was not Mika's fighting style in the slightest.

He would put himself on a training regimen for his new body as soon as he could catch some time completely alone, and maybe find some pants. the dress was giving him an uncomfortable breeze in an unpleasant place, one that he was not used to at all. And he was wary of that pink haired girl. He used his forefinger to tilt his head left and right, feeling the joints in his neck pop, then stretching his back, enjoying the line of musical cracks the movement caused. This body seemed very flexible, which would be good if he could learn how to utilize it. It really wouldn't help if he needed to go on the offense though, which was needed so he could defend his Majesty.

Speaking of his Majesty, Mika looked up as the male returned to the room. He offered a small smile until he noticed the expression on the pale male's face. Worry and stress. He stood abruptly, instinctively smoothing his skirt. The King's next words gave him the same expression. They weren't sharing a room. That wasn't good at all. How could he protect his King if he couldn't keep guard at night? And he wasn't in his old body, which would have been sufficient to cow who ever Hayden's roommate was into docility. His mouth tightened into a thin line. What could they do about it? He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously, furrowing his brow. It would be no use to ask the to accommodate, as they hadn't even been kind enough to put him in the right sex of body, and what other options were there?

"What can we do?" He said, trying to keep the edge of hopelessness out of his voice. This had really been a terrible day right from the start. He half wished he could go back to being dead, but his duty was to Hayden and he could not forsake it.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annabelle 'Ivy' Smithson Character Portrait: Garret

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“You really shouldn't thank me. When you meet the rest of my family you might try to run for it.” She said, though the tone in here voice made it clear the statement was in joking. He smiled at the comment. After all, why would he want to leave? She was so wonderful already, just for wanting him in the first place! And he was sure he could handle a little bit of crazy, couldn't he? Well, he thought so, anyway.

“Sadly, there are going to be rules.” She said, “But they’re not mine, their dad’s. Typically, sense you’re, eh, male, my dad will be a little weird with his rules.”

Oh, Garret thought to himself, shifting awkwardly just about at the same point that she did. Rules because he was male, eh? He could see where that kind of thing would be coming from, or, at least, he could see where it would be coming from if he were an actual human boy, though it was a bit surprising still that it would be a concern, what with Garret being a doll and everything. All they had to do was tell him not to... y'know... do it, and he wouldn't. Likewise, if he do told to do something, he would, even if he didn't want to. That was just how it was. He was a little too nervous about that sort of thing to do something like disobey. Well, unless he felt it was something harmless and he wouldn't be caught of course, but that applied more to going for walks before sunrise when he wasn't supposed to, and peeking in on situations that he was curious about even though he was supposed to be in the other room.

“My rules aren't weird,” Ivy's father interjected. Ivy jumped at his sudden approach behind her, but Garret had seen him coming. All he could do was smile at the little blue haired girl's reaction. “They are going to keep you out of trouble and you,” He pointed at Garret, and Garret instantly tensed, “ In line.”

“What could he possibly do? He’s like a puppy, cute and harmless.” Ivy had retorted to her father, walking with Garret as the three headed to where Ivy's father had parked the car. He father ignored the comment, though Garret found himself pursing his lips in protest about being called cute. Not that the action wasn't adorable in itself, and after all, he was just a big five-year-old pretty much all of the time, right down to having no idea how to dress himself. Kind of ironic that he actually was five years old.

“Neither of you are allowed in each other’s rooms after ten, and if you are, the door must be open. Always come home around nine if you’re out, and don’t be idiots. No drugs or alcohol, be good.” He continued, crossing his arms to show that he meant business. None of the rules seemed too unreasonable or difficult to follow, so Garret figured he could handle it. He found himself nodding in affirmation as the words were being said, making sure to take them in and specifically, remember the times at which the things would not be allowed.

“Wow, dad, so strict.” Ivy said to her father, he words joking with that touch of sarcasm. “But I doubt that will happen. Also, I have one rule.” She said, and Garret tilted his head for a mere moment. He hardly had a chance to think about questioning what the rule was, before she completed the statement. “Simply put, be yourself.” She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light, friendly squeeze.

He bit his lip a moment. Be himself? That was... actually going to be difficult. How could he, after all that time of pretending to be 'real Garret,' and after that, pretending that he was a normal doll? He wasn't even sure what 'himself' really was like. He knew he was awkward, and a lot more introverted than the other Garret. Yeah, he kind of was like a puppy, big and clumsy and tripping over his own feet. He never knew how he should behave or even what to do with himself. How could he be himself if he was always second-guessing? Perhaps... He could be real Garret instead. He could go back to pretending. Maybe she would like him. Well, 'him' being the human Garret. It wasn't hard to act like him, what with having his memories and all.

He pushed forward a smile. How could two little words make up such a difficult request? He thought, wanting to sit and think about it for a while more, but knowing that if he kept quiet for too much longer, Ivy might realize what a difficult request it actually was for him. He didn't want to disappoint her. Not after everything she'd already done for him.

"Okay!" He replied, flexing the smile a little wider, and by this point, he was sliding into the car along with Ivy. "I'll try my best, I promise!"

He smiled back when he saw the girl smiling at him, and took just a moment to look back at Kelley's house one more time before he knew he would be parting for good. Good riddance, he thought, but part of him was solemn about it. It was the human part, the part that belonged to real Garret. Kelley had always favored him in the days when she still had her little cousin, and that was why doll Garret had been left to her. But she'd always hated doll Garret. He was just a reminder of a tragic death, and the sight of a mistake. His appearance made her so frustrated, so angry. Garret couldn't help who he was, though. Or, rather, he couldn't help who he wasn't. There just wasn't anything that could make her like him.

He found himself sighing too late in the process to stop it, and immediately wished he hadn't done so. To cover up the action though, he quickly turned back to Ivy with that sweet smile of his. So innocent-looking with a slight-too-much spacing in his teeth. He was about to speak to her, to say something about how glad he was to be going home with her, how he couldn't wait to see her home - his new home - when the car engine started and he immediately jolted at the noise, scrunching his body and shutting his eyes while he took in a sharp breath. His hands flew to the sides of his head for protection.

It took a few moments for him to open his eyes again, looking every which way around the car before he could calm down, bringing the jittery limbs away from his head and realized there were no other cars in sight - just the one that surrounded him. He was fine, everything was fine...

Unless they ended up going through the city.

He hated being around cars. Being in them was fine - he could even stick his head out the window and not be scared at all - but being in the close proximity of a running car made him so scared. Transferring memories had been very shaky five years ago when they'd done it. Memories from deceased were always charged into the archives and databases of the morgue; it helped to solve murder cases, and sometimes sending the files to family members would console them a bit. Other times the families found it only disturbing, as they requested to see the moments of their loved one's death, as well. Most never even saw the saved memories at all. They just didn't want them. Still, it had made solving crimes a bit easier, as long as the brain wasn't destroyed. The process of transferring the memories then was sort of like the same way that they plugged personalities into the doll's brains, but they had made a mistake in programming Garret; they had given him all of the original Garret's memories. Right down to the hit and run that had killed him. At first Garret simply thought that he'd survived the accident, but after about four months, he'd settled all the confusion in his mind about what had actually happened. Still, the hit and run was a terrible memory, and he had all the fear in him that real Garret would have had.

He slunk down in the seat, so that his eyes wouldn't see the road out the window. At least then he wouldn't see if a car was near by. He looked at Ivy again, this time his look was purely apologetic.

"Sorry," He said, hunching his shoulders and giving a little smile. "That sort 'a startled me is all." He forced a little uneasy laugh, a bit embarrassed at his actions. "But yeah, I was gonna say that I'm really excited to be going home with you! I can't wait."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Mika Taylor Character Portrait: Angel Aberdeen

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#, as written by Jynxii

"What the hell is happening to number seven? Shit. SHIT. Dr. Heiden, she's.."

And everything was peaceful again, at least, it was. It seemed like it was only a matter of seconds before she was once again ripped from... wherever she had been.

"..this up again and we're both fired." "I realize that, Mark, thank you for-- look! Look, she's moving! Oh, thank God... she's moving..... She's moving! Oh! Quick, get the tube out!" Angel remained laying in a warm soppy bed that squished with the slightest of movements. "Is she already registering? That's amazing... none of them have ever been this alert so soon out of stasis.. Amazing.." The world around her was a blur of swirling colors and shapes. Feeling extremely exhausted, she closed her eyes again, willing the peace she had known for so long to come back. It did, for a while, but when she awoke again she could feel the cotton of a blanket over her, and the firmness of a mattress beneath her. Confused, she slowly sat up, noticing the stark pink of the cotton clothing she was wearing. A look around the room revealed to her that she was in some sort of cell, but nothing like anything she had ever seen.

Everything was white as snow, aside from her strangely colored clothes. Across the room, the black box came to life, and sound and images roared at her. She let out a scream; but the voice was not her own. Terrified, she curled up against the wall which the bed was pushed against. After a few moments, she convinced herself that the strange magical box was not going to hurt her. It was then that a woman appeared inside. Was she trapped? How did she get so small? Confused and intrigued all at the same time, Angel slowly crept closer to the box. "Hello! Welcome to Heartland Industries! I'm sure you're wondering what is happening to you!" The woman's voice was cheery and lighthearted. The bizarre mythical square continued on, entrancing Angel. It felt like minutes, but in reality she was there for hours, soaking in the information like a sponge. The program was a DVD designed by Heartland to tell dolls what they were, how they were made, and inform them about the world around them. It was a generic video, made for dolls whose owners wanted to skimp on the memory prices and just wanted the bare minimums. Luckily for Angel, the video was also interactive, so she was able to ask questions such as, 'What is France?' and receive a textbook definition.

When the video finally clicked off, and Angel was out of questions, she sat staring at what she now knew as the television, or tv for short. Her mind twisted and wrapped around the information, absorbing everything. So, she had been brought back from the dead... it made sense that her old body was long since rotted, but what did this new one look like? Peering into the now black screen, she stared in shocked awe at her reflection.... She was young again! A brilliant smile lit up her features. Oh, to be young again, she giggled to herself, touching her face which was now wrinkle free. Giddy over her new start on life, completely forgetting that she was property of anyone, she pranced around the room, admiring her new form.

"If you're done, I'll show you to the room you will be staying in..." The amused feminine voice belonged to a young woman with black hair that she kept pulled into a high bun. "Oh... sorry." Feeling embarrassed, Angel bowed her head and followed after the woman. On the way through the halls, Angel bombarded the female with questions, most of which were answered with a shrug of the woman's shoulders or a laugh. Feeling as though the woman were a completely useless idiot, Angel decided she would not bother trying to speak with her anymore. It was just as well anyway, because they had arrived at where ever it was that they were. The woman gestured for Angel to enter the room, and after a skeptical glance, Angel did as she was told.
In the room was more stark white furniture, and it made the pink pjamas she found herself wearing stand out even more. Looking around at the other people in the room, whom the lady had said were like her, Angel felt a little cheated. All of them were wearing very nice looking clothes, compared to her Pjs. The door closed behind her with a thud, and Angel was left to stand there awkwardly. The charm on her wrist was her only indication as to who this new body belonged to. The charm had two wings spreading out from a single word: Angel. Number 7. That's who she was now. Angel. No one here would know her as her true name- this way, she would always be a step ahead of everyone. Good.

Angel stood quietly in the doorway as she listened to a couple talk about the rooming situation. "There are assigned beds and we aren't sharing a room," the male was saying, looking incredibly put off his tea. Angel kept her expression blank, but she had to marvel at how different the world was now. Men being so bold as to share a room with their... what did that video call it? Girlfriend. Yes. The more she found out, the more her body seemed to remember. Apparently the body had been used before, and whoever had it last was very fashion forward and a social butterfly. Good. That information would come in handy, too.

The female looked rather upset. "If it's my bed, I could trade with you," she offered, slowly walking over and butting into their conversation. Now was as good a time as any to make Friends. The smile her body showed off was warm and inviting, and her voice was pleasantly melodic and gentle. If there was power to be had in this new, strange world, this body would certainly make it a piece of cake to achieve.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olive Dawn Croft Character Portrait: Isaac

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The woman smiled a bit more at his warning. Then she spoke, in an almost cryptic manner. The gist of it was that she wanted Mel to leave. Isaac shot his keeper a look, and she gave him a look with slightly narrowed eyes. He gave her a faint wave as she nodded silently to the woman, Olive, and turned to leave. Isaac's eyes then turned back to the prospective buyer, his interest piqued. The gesture had promised that there would be interesting answers to follow, and there was nothing Isaac liked better than riveting answers. He examined her inquisitively as she turned and took a seat. Then he heard the faint click as the lock of the door bounced off the jamb, not quite closed but not open either.

As if she'd been waiting for that tell-tale sound, Olive spoke, motioning delicately at the seat beside her. Isaac regarded her for a moment, a slight tone of caution colouring his movements. He moved slowly with a fledgling grace that was slowly becoming second nature. He was still curious as to what she wanted with him and why she'd been so apparently amused by his words. He sat down, turning his body slightly to face her and resting one arm on the back of the chair, the position he naturally fell into when seated. Now that Mel was gone he began to toy with his tie, loosening it more so he could actually breath. His eyes slowly wandered back up to her face in a measured, deliberate manner. Then she spoke.

At first she was just stating the obvious, her name, et cetera, but there was something curious to the way she spoke. The tiredness in her eyes. It was foreboding. He shook his head slowly, though she already seemed to know the answer to her question. Then she wrapped around back to his question. She only had a cryptic sort of answer, however, nothing that explained anything. "Well, they never said they made me conventional." he responded offhandedly. His eyes wandered away from her face, but he continued to listen with his head tipped ever so lightly to one side, one hand fidgeting with his collar still.

Random. Huh. He couldn't decide if he liked that idea or not. He didn't believe in fate or destiny. He was a doll, he wasn't run by those things. He was run by binary codes and a structured semblance of randomized autonomy. Harnessed chaos. But he wouldn't argue that point. He liked her alright, so if she wanted to play pretend it was fine with him. He stared at the floor, the stillness of his body showing that he was still listening. He lifted his head up when she made a most foreboding comment though. Not dead yet? What did that mean? He lifted his head up slowly, turning his gaze to her again. there was still a twinkle in her eye, but it was subdued. For the moment. Everything would go to him? The male doll swallowed slowly, trying to process her words. Dolls typically didn't count for inheritance because they were merely property in the hierarchy of life. He opened his mouth to comment, but the sadness in her face stayed his tongue for a moment.

His head tipped to one side slightly further, adding a slightly owlish curiosity to his searching expression. The question she left off with made him thin his lips with appreciation. She was strong. And obviously she had her wits about her, though he was quite curious about these enigmas she'd just crafted about herself. "I'd hope not, " He said, his voice little louder than a reflective murmur. "That's be a horribly boring existence." His eyes flicked across her smile, and he lifted his features into the faint curve of a smile as well for a few seconds. Then back to business. He had questions, and naturally he craved answers.

"You said... are you dying?" His voice was calm, as was his face, but his thoughts were not. The strained pauses between words were enough to show that. He struggled for words after a second, his thoughts on Adi. He couldn't say for sure, but it sounded like Adi's previous owner had either died or been severely injured. And Adi didn't seem too happy. But that had been a different kind of termination. One that had left Adi with scars. live didn't look to be wounded any way. Nor did she look particularly sick. "Why?" He managed to get out, not nearly as eloquently as he could have wished. On an instinct he reached out for her hand, not particularly to comfort her, more because he just needed something to hold onto while he processed this new understanding. He'd contemplated being terminated before, but never had he been in such close quarters with the very real concept of death. And Adi had gotten him in the habit of taking comfort from hand holding.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Mika Taylor Character Portrait: Jayson 'Jay' Miako Character Portrait: Angel Aberdeen

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There really isn’t much to do around here, Jayson thought as he smirked. He wiped his hands on the pants he was wearing. They seemed to be tight on his thin legs yet a little baggy in the back. The whole time Jay had been in a stoic like trance, not thinking about what really had happened. He had been dead and now he was alive again as an experiment by a large corporation. Huh, he thought, shouldn’t I be panicking?

But he wasn’t panicking; all he seemed to do was show mild interest in anything. Walking back into the room, Jay saw the blonde headed woman talking to King Hayden. Neither looked too happy. Leaving the room, the black haired boy found the resting quarters, each with two beds and a plague on them.

Jayson found his name on one of the plaques and after looking at it, turned it face down. Nobody needed to know he was here. He walked out of the room, and looked at everyone else before sitting down. His mind had been on auto-drive the whole time. He felt nothing but empty and idle curiosity.

Yawning, Jay looked at a slick black rectangle that sat on the wall. Shiny, he thought sarcastically, What the hell does it do?
Jayson got up and looked at it, beneath the glassy thing was a tiny dresser and sitting on top of that was another rectangular thing with many buttons on it. Tilting his head, he grabbed the thing and looked at it.

Not interesting, he thought as he put it down and raised an eyebrow at the woman that began to speak with King Hayden and the woman next to him. He frowned, walking out of the room to find where he would be sleeping.

The young man then yawned, sitting down on the bed. A flash of black hair caught his eye, and he looked to see a mirror. It took Jay a moment to realize the reflection was, indeed, him. Standing up and walking to the mirror, his mouth dropped. Nonononono, he thought as he felt his stomach drop. Now he knew he was in a different body, one much smaller than his original. But this body wasn’t one of a young man, but a boy.

Jayson gritted his teeth, a nerve in his jaw twitching as he tried to keep himself from lashing out at the reflection. This wasn’t time to react like that. He needed to stay calm. The rush of anger caused him to feel nauseous and dizzy.
He fucking hated this place.

Jay stalked out of the room, clenching and unclenching his hands as he sat quietly down onto one of the plush couches. Stay calm, he thought to himself, just stay calm. Don’t draw attention.
All he wanted to do was punch a wall. But no, his baby hand would probably break.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Adrian Alistair Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish Character Portrait: Mika Taylor Character Portrait: Angel Aberdeen

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Lyanna Tarnish || The Intelligent

Lyanna walks over and runs her hands over the kitchen counter tops, which are marble but incredibly smooth to the touch. The action is rather absentminded, for she is far more focused on the small white box with the dark window on it. There is a handle, but even as she grabs and pulls at it, the door remains completely shut. Curious, the young woman pushes a button, causing it to pop open, giving her a small fright that the collected young woman does her best to hide as soon as it has come, only briefly glancing over her shoulder to ensure that no one had seen it. Within the box is merely a rotating glass plate, leaving her to assume that the device is for storage of food that the cooks do not desire to be ruined. How simple, she muses, closing it again and deciding that, for now, it would be in her best interest to watch others examine things. After all, something in this white box of a place may be dangerous, and she hardly desires to be the person who injures themselves because they can't keep their hands off of the new and the shiny.

Besides, she sees a shoulder that seems to be raking heavily, and it draws her attention away form the devices. The young woman is far more interested in people than in objects, especially as people make the objects. Why steal the sword when you can steal the man who makes it? She follows the noise and glances around the corner and into a corridor, where one of the people from before, the one she had identified as King Adrian, is leaned against the wall, trembling slightly. She can't see his face, but he is releasing noises that seem something like sobs. Immediately, her eyebrow shoots up, somewhat amused that a king with a reputation such as his can act in such a manner. Of course, all people are the same in their core- that's what makes them so easy to manipulate. Back in her own era, some mused that perhaps Lyanna had not truly been human, but a demon offspring brought about by the witchcraft that her father was rumored to dabble in. How else could they explain a woman being powerful, or her constantly cold and merciless persona? If someone is not vulnerable, they must be inhuman- especially as a woman. Lyanna hadn't minded this rumor- it made her people all the more submissive, after all.

"Are you well, my lord?" she asks. It is clear to Lyanna that people don't know what is going on, though she's surmised that there appear to be pairs of knights and kings, and thus may be prone to believe anyone who tells them that they are of their service. Not that she would so blatantly make a lie- but if these people are inclined to think her a peasant, and therefore perfectly harmless, she certainly will not object. Lyanna may be proud, but she is perfectly welling to set that aside if it can benefit her in the long term. Besides, she remains unsure as to who her own knight is, or where she is, and it is perfectly possible that her knight has not come with her at all, is it not? Oh, yes, handicapped from the beginning, that would be quite lovely. Not that I'm not accustomed to it, she thinks with some bitterness in her mental voice, though her expression retains a false look of open hope, as though she is hoping that Adrian is who he is. Ha.

Lyanna leans her head slightly, as though trying to look around at Adrian's face, which remains turned away from her. "My apologies, I will go," she says, every part the meek serving girl. Having snuck out quite a bit in her youth, mostly to visit some of the more attractive servers after dusk, she can do it quite well. Of course, deception has come easily to Lyanna ever since she had to master it to keep herself out of those wretched dungeons that, for the record, her father was rather careless about cleaning and keeping free of rodents. You'd think he could do that much, given that they were practically his only child's chambers, but no. Well, she had gotten her revenge, to some extent, by keeping him from ever fathering a child by her stepmother. She'd had more control over the court than her father by the age of fifteen. She'd had more spies, more connections, and more followers. Everyone preferred the charming princess to her vicious father, and that was the way she had kept it until reaching true power.

Deciding that she shouldn't try and force her act, instead just giving little hints here and there to her being nothing more than a rather intelligent serving girl or daughter of some obscure noble, Lyanna does her best impression of an underling and slides away, this time finding herself near King Hayden and his knight, as well as a girl whom she has yet to identify, who speak to them and wears a rather simple garb. "Pardon me, my lord, but did you mention assigned rooms?" Lyanna asks, keeping her eyes on their feet, only now and then glancing up, because she knows that the knight had seen her looking before, and wouldn't buy for a completely downcast look. Well, unless he believed her to be one of those more manipulative young serving girls, or a noble's daughter. She'd go for the latter. "Are there plates of some sort, then?" she inquires further, immediately raising her eyes more and deciding that she should try and remove hers.

Seven hells. What's the point of being clever about things when they are going to post your name on a sign?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olive Dawn Croft Character Portrait: Isaac

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#, as written by Jynxii


Olive remained calm as the doll reached over and took her hand. An interesting reaction, but perhaps he was programmed to be compassionate. He wanted to know why she was dying. She laughed a little, at his innocence and at the irony of his question. The one question that every cancer patient asks themselves, every morning. 'Why?' "Because I have cancer," she answered calmly, after her smile had faded away. "I've been given the choice of any doll I'd like here at Heartland, and I've chosen you." She let that sink in for a moment as she watched his reactions. "I know it's not exactly the dream job, but... what do you say? After all, I might kick off in the middle of the night, who knows? Then you'd be home free to do as you please. Taboo, they say, but who cares. As long as you take care of my shops, I won't haunt you and you'll be the first freed doll."

She didn't care if Heartland was listening in or not. She had cancer, and she was dying. She had no fear of the law, or Heartland, or anything anymore... anything, that is, but spiders and other assorted terrors of their kind. "What do you say?"

Ooc: Short post x.x Sorry!


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annabelle 'Ivy' Smithson Character Portrait: Garret

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Image Ivy watched Garret as they sat in the car. As he sighed and looked at her, she wondered if he would miss the house, the Kelley woman. She didn’t know, but she hoped he wouldn't. When he smiled at her, she smiled back. It looked like he wanted to say something, but when the car started he went in some sort of fetal position, covering his head with his arms and getting lower to the seats.Ivy was going to ask what was wrong when he lowered his hands and sunk lower into the seats. Her face clouded with confusion and worry, but she didn’t say anything. When he looked at again, he apologized for his actions.

"That sort 'a startled me is all." Ivy nodded, but really didn’t believe him. She had never seen anyone act like that because they were startled. His reaction seemed more like he was afraid something was going to hurt him, not startle him.
"But yeah, I was gonna say that I'm really excited to be going home with you! I can't wait." He said and Ivy smiled, shifting in her seat. She hoped he would like it, with her family. Her house was a Victorian style cottage, ‘quaint’ to most of her parents’ friends. Most of them owned manors or houses with more than eight bedrooms. Ivy could say her house was relatively normal.

“Well, I’m glad you’re excited.” She said with a smile. Her dad turned the radio on, Three Days Grace played through the speakers. She found it amusing that the radio wasn’t playing Justin Bieber or Flo Rida, two singers she hated. She returned her attention to Garret when her father changed the station, “You’ll get your own room, and it was the guest room.” She made a face, “Kinda dull but we can always fix that.”

The drive wasn’t long and soon enough they pulled into the cottage. She waited until her father fully stopped the car before jumping out, looking at the house. It was pretty big for a house; the inside was very nice as well. Two boys from Ivy’s high school saw her and snickered.

“Hey,Smurf!” One of them called out before noticing Garret, “Finally bought yourself a friend?” He asked, taking a drag on the cigarette that sat between his lips.

Ivy gave them a bright smile, “Why don’t you go choke on your fag, Austin.” She knew they took it the wrong way, not everyone knew fag was another term for cigarettes. The look on the other boys face as pure amusement as Austin grumbled away, having no comeback.

She shook her head, looking at Garret, “C’mon,” She said with a small smile, bounding inside the house. As usual it was empty. Stephano, her cat, meowed in greeting and walked between her legs.She patted him on the head before looking at Garret. “I’ll show you your room.” She said, going up the stairs that were beside the kitchen. As she showed Garret the room, she made a face. The room was dull and boring, but if Garret wanted to change that, they could.

“This is where you will be living.” She said with a smile, “My room is right over there.” Ivy pointed to a door close by.

“Ivy, you’ve got a package!” Her father yelled from downstairs.

“Just make yourself at home.” She said before disappearing down the stairs. The package was one she had been waiting for, a bunch of shirts and other band merchandise she had spent all of her birthday and Christmas money on. She took the box and began making her way back upstairs and went into her room, putting it down. She would give Garret some time to look around before bugging him again.

She opened the box, looking at all the items. Everything she had bought, with something extra. She smiled at the CD, her eyes landing on the signatures of the band members. Fuck yes. She said, putting the box beside her desk.
Today has been a great day so far.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Adrian Alistair Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish

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"Are you well, my lord?"

Who the fuck was this bitch?

He almost looked up from the floor, and almost exposed his expression, an expression he couldn't remember wearing even in life. It was too despicable a countenance for any eyes to see. Just knowing he was making it only fueled his suicidal fires. God, he'd been so powerful in life. What was he now? He was a boy. A fucking boy. Not only that, but he was getting to be pity case, as well, apparently. He couldn't handle his current reality, and he was acting like a complete spineless, craven pissant because of it. He was on the verge of tears and throwing up his empty fucking stomach because of it. So what if this was hell? If this was hell, then hell was nothing. He began talking to himself. Nothing, alright? Nothing. You could be roasting alive right now, maggot, with demons clawing at your burning flesh. Instead, you're given a hell without the hellfire, you're given a body that's not... deformed, you're given relatively little to complain about, quantitywise, so MAN THE EVERLOVING FUCK UP YOU WASTE OF SPACE-

"My apologies, I will go," the woman said to him, almost (but not quite) breaking him from his trashy pep-talk. Again, he (almost) looked up. He'd almost forgot she'd been there. Although he was a bit relieved she sounded more like the females he was used to hearing. That other woman had supposedly been a doctor. That had frightened him thoroughly. A doctor. That did nothing to help his confused state. Everyone knew that women couldn't be doctors. What a ridiculous notion. It only seemed logical that this was hell. Only in the underworld could such a thing happen. Unless that woman was some sort of witch, he mused. Then, it would be different. He'd executed witches before. Adrian almost sighed. Would he have to execute this witch, too? Damn. He really didn't feel up to it. Some other king could do it. He was sick of everything at the moment.

In a way, he was kind of relieved that the woman had left him. At that moment, Adrian felt that if he opened his mouth, the only thing that would come out was vomit. He was to the point where he was considering the fact that he might have a need for medical attention. God, that pissed him off. He was a king, dammit! He was not weak! But he could no longer deny that what he felt in his unfamiliar gut was getting beyond the point of "uncomfortable" and more towards "painful".

Forcing himself to stand up straight and wipe that godawful expression off of his godawful face (although it took an extensive amount of effort to do both the latter and the former), Adrian took a deep breath, and tried to reconnect with his beloved scowl. When he assumed he got something of his usual expression, he strode out of the damn room, arms crossed and wanting little more than to butcher someone. His knight could go fall of a cliff! He was a king, and he'd do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Well, he entered another room, this one's floor consisting of yet another material that freaked him the fuck out. It was... hard. Hard and almost reflective. He raised his eyes from the floor, and when he took in the rest of that room, he could've sworn he was in the nest of Satan himself. Shiny objects everywhere, odd boxes with equally odd purposes, he assumed. Tentatively, he took a step inward. There were cupboards, and those he recognized, but everything else looked vastly unfamiliar, and rather terrifying. He didn't dare touch anything. This room must have been some sort of torture chamber. Yes, that made sense. Of course there would be a torture chamber in hell. It didn't look anything like the one he'd used, but it was hell. What could one expect? He squinted at the cupboards, the one thing he found familiar in this entire room. What the hell did a torture chamber need cupboards for? Storing instruments? Maybe. But other than that, the only place he'd ever seen a cupboard was-

A kitchen. Well. That made... much more sense and very little sense at the same time.

Adrian raised a brow curiously. If this was a kitchen, he could get something to drink. Ah, that would sooth his nerves.

He very, very cautiously opened one of the cupboards, and peeked inside, wary in case of any demons waiting to pop out at him. But all he saw were... cups. The king furrowed his brows. He hadn't seen cups in a very long time. All he'd ever used were chalices. He scoffed. They'd given him peasant tools. Too hell with that! He didn't need a drink anyways!

He stomped, agitated, from the torture-chamber-kitchen-combination, only to reenter the room with the... the, uh... plush... seating... arrangements... Those were extremely odd. He'd had comfortable chairs before, but these were like... benches. Benches with pillows. Adrian shook his head slightly. He'd burst a blood vessel again if this kept up.

That pretty-boy blond appeared to be distressed. In the haze of his ill-feelings, Adrian caught something about assigned... assigned beds. Adrian's jaw almost dropped. That was madness! Utter lunacy! Arms still crossed, he plopped angrily down on one of the plush benches. "Rubbish!" he shouted. "No one can tell me where to sleep!"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wyatt Roswell Character Portrait: Sunny

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"Well," Sunny almost gasped and looked back at her new owner, eyes wide. She was, in a word, surprised that she'd gotten a response other than a scoff of some sort. "I hope you like cats. 'Cause I've got one. His name is Iago, and most of your duties are going to be taking care of him for me. He's a big orange cat, and he tends to like cute girls, so I'm sure you'll get along with him." She cracked the widest grin she had it in her capacity to crack. Sunny could hardly believe it. After all this time, she was finally going to a house with a cat in it. It was a big one, too. That was a major bonus! The doll wiggled back and forth in her seat, hardly able to contain her excitement.

A cat. This was most certainly the biggest of deals. She'd been to houses with dogs before (not puppies- that had made her sad). Fish too (those had been really colorful- she'd enjoyed her stay there a lot). Even rabbits, at her First's. Rabbits were fluffy, but they smelled really bad, and that made her sad. She wanted to cuddle them, but they always smelled too bad... But this time, she'd be living with a cat! It was like a dream come true! She couldn't have thought of a better pet to have if she tried (which said... a lot about her mental capabilities). She looked up, lost in her musings. If it was a fluffy cat, it would be even better. Oh, large cats had to be fluffy! Her hands curled into tense fists on her lap. Oh she wanted to cuddle it! Highlight of her existence, right there.

For the duration of the car ride, Sunny was much to occupied with her thoughts to say much of anything else, besides the occasional soft giggle or squeak. So, when Wyatt (she still loved that name) spoke to her, ripping her from her thoughts, Sunny couldn't help but jump a little. He hopped out of the car, and she struggled a bit to follow (mainly because of the fact that it took a few seconds to remember how to unclick the darn seat belt, and the darn shoes she was wearing didn't help her catch up to the young man any).

They entered the tailor's, and Sunny halted to stare briefly at the store's greeter-doll. Gawsh, he had some neat eyes. Although it seemed to Sunny that a doll with this sort of appearance belonged somewhere more... more classy. Of course, the place itself reeked of class, but she couldn't help but think that this doll had some sort of higher calling. She shook her curls, not wanting to think on that any more. That kind of stuff made her sad.

Then, though, she let herself get lost among the rows and rows of clothes and such. They all smelled really nice, she noted. Real flesh. She wanted to feel all of them, but that would have been impossible. Shame. It took her a while to find the dresses (mainly because of all of the stopping and staring she was doing; she'd never been inside a tailor's before), but when she did find them, she stopped dead in her high-heeled tracks.

She'd never seen so many dresses in one place before! Sunny covered her gaping mouth with her hands and took a tiny step forward. It was like... dress heaven! Such a beautiful place! If only there were outside, and had flowers and kittens, it would be like Sunny heaven. She smiled. That sounded nice. But which one to choose... And thus, Sunny was faced with the most difficult decision of her existence. It took quite a bit of time for her to pick one. They were all so pretty, and came in all these various shapes and sizes. And the colors. It was all rather overwhelming. She worked hard at her task, though, ruling out the selection pool one by one. Until at last, there were two left.

This was the most difficult decision of her existence. Both contenders were just so cute. It was beyond difficult for her to choose. In the end, she employed the age-old tactic of "eenie-meenie-miney-mo". Although, luckily for her, right when she'd pointed to the dress that would've been the "winner", she'd decided that it wasn't the one she wanted. And so, she replaced the "loser", and held the one she'd picked close to her chest. It was perfect. She just had to show Wyatt. Surely he would find it absolutely adorable as well! Sunny couldn't think of why anyone wouldn't. But then again, Sunny couldn't think of a lot of things.

She went back to the front of the store, where she'd last seen Wyatt, and frowned when she didn't find him there. Oh yeah. He came here to do something, didn't he? And just like that, she couldn't remember what it had been. Rather dismayed, she wandered around the tailor's, looking for Wyatt. She wanted to show him the dress! A very small voice in the back of her mind gasped. What if he's ditched me here?!?! Sunny panicked, looking around frantically. There's no way that would've happened! He had seemed like a nice person! He wouldn't have just abandoned her! Well, she sure hoped not... There she stood, almost like a lost sort of animal, looking back and forth, hoping that maybe if she looked away from one spot, then looked back, he'd be standing there.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hayden Valkyrie Character Portrait: Adrian Alistair Character Portrait: Lyanna Tarnish Character Portrait: Mika Taylor Character Portrait: Angel Aberdeen

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нαу∂єη ναℓкуяιє

Image "What can we do?" Mika responded, seeming to try and mask how defeated he was. Of course, there really wasn't anything they could do, was there?

Hayden sighed, letting his shoulders slump, though, at the very least, the slump he allowed in his shoulders now was hardly a defeated slump. In fact, his body seemed to lose whatever tenseness that it had been holding. It was official, he was over it. He would deal. No problem. It wasn't like he would be getting any sleep anyway, so why bother to have a room with someone he'd be comfortable with? He doubted it was going to be very difficult to sneak into his knight's room anyway, if he so desired.

"If it's my bed, I could trade with you," came another voice. It was a girl's voice, but not Mika's new one, and Hayden almost immediately scowled at the sound of it, his head turning sharply towards the brunette in vibrant pink who had approached them. He backed up subconsciously, turning his body so that she was at his front, and in the end of his change of stance, he'd managed to get himself facing the same direction Mika was facing, though he stood one step behind the small blonde, almost as if using him as a shield. Not that it would have been difficult to get through his knight as it was.

"Well, that's very kind of you," Hayden replied, though his words had suddenly become rather dry and distasteful. Instantly, however, he caught himself, and brought back his charming, laid back expression, one which slightly tilted up the edges of his mouth in an almost-smile. It had been coy and sexy and handsome in his old body, but now he wondered if perhaps the expression looked silly with that boyish face and pale, paper-delicate features. Maybe it was cute. He'd have to find a mirror or another reflective surface in order to practice his endearing expressions. One always had to know how to work their face. He put a tattooed hand on his hip before continuing, bringing a much less dreadful tone to his voice and trying to jump past that uncomfortable barrier that stood between him and a normal, non-paranoid conversation. At least he could pretend. "Of course, I barely payed any mind to the name on the bed next to mine, so I have no idea whose it is. You'd have to give the name a look."

He shrugged in the most over-dramatized way that he could, turning his hands upward along with the motion and letting his head go to one side, eyes closing during the action, before letting his limbs and body parts simply drop back down into the most relaxed position they could be in. There didn't seem to be a tense muscle in his entire body. He supposed this was sort of like being kidnapped, which had happened to him so many times when he was young. Staying in a strange place, following orders at the end of a sword, foreign clothes, languages, and being treated like a slave. He hadn't cried then, and he wouldn't so much as scoff, now. Maybe this was a little worse, since he knew that going home after this wasn't an option. There would be no one coming to rescue him. There was no attention to look forward to in the end. He'd have to make due with the situation, and he'd have to make due fast, because unless he could utilize every single person in here to his own devices, he wasn't getting out. Mika wasn't getting out. He wasn't sure if he cared whether the others did or not, yet, though.

"Pardon me, my lord, but did you mention assigned rooms?"

Another girl had approached. This time it was the one with the bright pink hair. Hayden took another few steps backwards towards a place that was slightly more distanced from the girls, instinctively not wanting them close after what had happened in the hallway. He wanted them both in his line of vision at once, and he didn't want any room for anyone to get behind him. In the end, his position was nearing the chair that Mika had been sitting in, and he stood perhaps a foot in front of it, though he was unaware of it's positioning behind him.

"Are there plates of some sort, then?"

Hayden took a bite of the apple that still rested in his right hand, shoving the other in his pocket. So popular he'd become after mentioning it, eh? He decided that, being the holder of the of the information, he could leave the people with questions on edge for as long as he damn well pleased. He swallowed the bite of apple, before giving a slow, relaxed not.

"Yes," He answered plainly. "There are small silver plaques on the headboards. They have just a first name on them, or at least, that is the only thing on mine. I would be more unnerved at their lack of using my proper title, or perhaps unnerved that they placed it so plainly like a name tag for a common dog, but it's only a name now."

He shrugged, this time much less dramatically than before. His name was worth nothing now. It held no power, it held no value. It was simply a name. Like a name of a slave. It was an empty word that meant little anymore. He hardly cared about it, and he hardly cared about his identity. If they were to know who he was, then let them know. He was a king of treaties and agreements, and he was hardly a threat to them. Everyone would automatically look to his name and if they recognized it, see a spineless king who was fearful of war. That was fine. He'd been alright with such a name the minute he'd taken control. But there was simply no reason to put the lives of his subjects on the line with something that could be put to rest with words. When he fought, he fought with them. He died with them. But no one else would see that. They would see a weak king who'd died a young man, and that was fine. Reputations would always get the best of people, especially of people with noble standing.

"Rubbish!" Shouted the boy with fiery hair. The same boy which had previously been having a breakdown? The corner of Hayden's lips turned up, and he raised an amused brow at the boy's feisty outburst. "No one can tell me where to sleep!"

Hayden snorted, an attempt to stop himself from laughing. How pathetic. Wasn't this kid practically sobbing a second ago? Hell, he might have been heaving, but Hayden hadn't been paying attention. This read-haired brat had shouted from the get-go, broken down at the face of something new, and made a big burst of emotion with every single one that seemed to come his way! Now he's shouting that they can't tell him what to do? What a spoiled thing to say! And this was coming from the king of spoiled, himself. Hayden was cared for immensely, spoiled from the moment he'd first opened his eyes. He was an only child to a king for Christ's sake, and there wasn't a thing that he couldn't have, as long as he was absolutely perfect. He had grown up being fussed over, and honestly, all the fuss over his information about assigned beds was absolutely. Fucking. Great. Who could complain when surrounded by attention? Though he still had to wish that the girls would take a couple of giant steps backward.

"Oh yeah?" Hayden retorted to the fire-tempered red-head, smirking coyly. "You aren't going to be told where to sleep? And who exactly is going to stop them from enforcing their rules? I certainly don't see anyone."

He took another bite of the apple in his hand, losing the smile and looking almost as if he were bored and tired. He took a step backwards again, wanting to lean against the wall behind him, but was unaware of the chair that sat behind him instead, blocking the route. Instead of making his way to the wall, where he planned, his moving leg connected with the chair, and his sudden momentum caused him to fall backwards, plopping down into it in possibly the least cool way, and causing the strange white furnishing to... contort? Suddenly the foot of the chair was out, holding up his legs above the ground and he was staring at the ceiling. He thought for a moment that he'd fallen on the ground, but his position was far too comfortable to be the ground. Shifting, he scrambled to sit upright in the seat of the chair, drawing his legs underneath him, though the chair itself remained in it's odd, sprawled position.

"What the hell?" He mused, placing his hands on one arm of the chair while he peered over the side of it to examine the contraption. "Did I break it?"

Tilting his head over to one side as he straightened again, he pressed his weight down with his hand on the outstretched foot of the chair, recoiling as it gave way to a slightly stronger weight. He swung his legs back on top of it, and pushed them downward until he heard a satisfying click, and the back of the chair and the foot of the chair were both secure in place once more, as if he'd never broken it at all. Isn't that peculiar, he mused, standing up and staring at the odd white furnishing, forgetting all together about his desire not to have anyone at his back. Is it supposed to do that?

"Well, this place never ceases to surprise me, I'll give it that much," Hayden mused aloud, though the comment was majorly to himself. "Still, the time in between surprises is rather boring."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamerah

0.00 INK

#, as written by Airanea

Tamerah, the doll of Damien Jackson, his business partner, his right hand woman, his dearest friend, his secret love.

Damien Jackson, the largest drug lord of New New York, her only owner, her provider, her teacher, her only source of ‘life’.

Tamerah and Damien had been seen on the news on more than one account, every time he was in court she was sitting there behind him, every time he attended charity events she stood at his side, every business transaction – plot – plan – follow through, she was there helping.

Everybody who was anybody and anybody who was nobody knew Tamerah and Damien through the media or personally.

They were a public figure, and over the last two years they had grown their reputation together, he was wealthy and she was intelligent, they gave back to the community what they reaped in profits – after keeping a healthy chunk to themselves, saints and sinners – it’s so easy to get such things confused, after all it is only a thin line drawn between the two.

There was a conflict nearly a week ago, Tamerah was to put down Simon – her assistant, but as she peered down at him her eyes met his, and something flickered in her system, a thought, a pause of order, regret. She stumbled back in shock at this feeling, tumbling down to land on her rear.

Damien was left to do the dirty work and Tamerah was sent to her bedroom preparing to be sent back to the factory for malfunctions.

Something dear to Damien was stolen that night, something he could never replace, Tamerah.

Current Day:

The fragile body of what was now a nameless doll was curled in the depths of a dark and damp basement, huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around knees and face buried in thighs. Deep in those darks was a breaking false sense of spirit and deep in those perpetual blacks was a man fumbling around with scarred hands searching, seeking his newly acquired toy.

“You know, Damien must not have loved you as much as I assumed he did.” The voice rang out, old and raspy, chapped and broken – it gave way to his position, gave way to his seeking, and Tamerah pushed harder against that corner.

“Not a call has been sent out for you, not a ransom offered in your name. Then again how could a lord love a doll – a doll made of slut for that matter.” The moist stone floor sent chills throughout her body, the cold ripped at her artificial flesh. Filth was smeared in every crease of her body, the stench of old sperm and rotted spit suffocated her with every breath she took.

“You probably don’t even know what the word slut means, do ya Doll? Fake scum excuse of an object.” She had tolerated his verbal abuse for the past week, he hated them, all of them – he had killed many before her and if he could not sell her she would be next. “Why should yer kind be able ta live the high life when ys cannot even feel, when ya is not even real - while the rest of us are left in the slums ta rot?!”

His withered foot slammed out to kick at a large tin can, and as it flew it slammed into the wall above her head, showering her in the remains of tobacco spit, buts, and ash.

She couldn’t help it - a small whimper broke from between lush rose stained lips.

“There ya are, ya fuckin whore!” Before she could move, before she could crawl away on hands and knees his calloused hand reached out, snapping to grab her by the elbow and ripping her up to stand upon the tips of her toes.

“P-P-Ple-ease, just l-let me re-res-tt, for o-one nig-gh-ght.” Those beautiful stormy eyes casted to the ground in shame. ‘Damien is coming for you any day now sweetheart any day now, just, try to survive a little longer.’ Her own voice tried to sooth, calm, she might have been lying to herself, but it was enough to get her by for now

“I don’t fuckin think so freak. Ya gotta make me some money before I take ya ta the grand ball, hopefully one of those rich fucks will buy you from me – otherwise it’s inta the furnace fer you!” That strong hand, it let her go, dropping her body to the ground like a limp chicken, her limbs sprawled out in every angle.

With a handful of her brick red locks Tids dragged her across that dirty wet floor, and up the steep wooden steps, with each stair he climbed a harder tug was given to those thick locks, ripping her up further with a jarring thud.

Once in the quaint general store he shackled her hands behind the small of her back, strapped a collar upon her neck, attached a leash and duck taped a white sign to her torso. On it in in scribbled black sharpie read “One fuck with the Lords doll $30.00”. There she stood, naked and ashamed, small, an object to be sold once again, something she had not felt in a long time – only now she was not excited, she was not custom made to someone’s desires, no, she was trash waiting for a can to be thrown in.

She had been reduced to thirty dollars a rape – how pathetic.

As he dragged her towards the door he whispered – his dried and crack lips rubbing over the lobe of her ear – the stench of his breath violating her senses. “Be thankful, won’t be a long night, gotta get ya ready fer the ball.”

The bell sounded with the opening door and his voice ripped across the packed and dirty slums.

“Last night ta get yer chances with Lord Damiens Doll. Last chance Lads, getter while ya can!”

A crowd of dirty and eager men began to gather right outside the shop, surrounding Tamerah – O-ing and Ah-ing as they inspected her like a fine piece of meat.