New New York

Daniel Clemment


The walk with Marina was pleasant, perfectly enjoyable and just interesting enough to keep him mind alive. They wandered back home as the sky began to cloud, and he sat with the exotic doll, along with Lilac and Cynthia, who were sitting in the sunroom, watching the clouds roll in, and drank some coffee, enjoying the calm moment. The ball that was quickly arriving would be enough energy to last a few days, so he should take his quiet, happy moments when they came. When Erik poked his head in, clothes rumpled and half put together, Daniel stood, untangling Lilac from his lap and kissing her forehead. “Cynthia, you and Joa are in charge.” he said over the smaller doll’s dark head at his most stoic female doll. She blinked her rust coloured eyes at him in affirmation as he turned to Erik, who watched him with earnest silence.

“Come here,” he said with a chuckle, reaching out to smooth the slim male’s collar and button his white shirt the rest of the way up. He deftly fixed his tie and proceeded to put his arm around Erik’s shoulder, examining his second newest doll’s face. He was such a sweet lad, but like most of the motley crew that occupied Daniel’s home, he didn’t have a pleasant past. He’d been through a year of abuse Daniel wouldn’t wish upon the meanest and most vile creatures of the earth. Erik really was a needy creature, built to be obedient and gentle and made to be frightened and nervous by the misdeeds done to him. He often hovered near, though he rarely joined in with the games most of the other dolls played when not otherwise occupied with chores or cuddles. “Don’t look so anxious, dear, you’ll be fine. You can stay at my shoulder all night if you want to.” He reached up and patted the boy’s curved face comfortingly as they ascended the floor to Daniel’s rooms. “You’ll have to wait here while I get dressed though. Button up your blazer and make sure it fits correctly.” He said, his voice gentle.

“Yes sir.” Erik said, his blue eyes following Daniel until he shut the door, closing the doll out in the hall. He smiled slightly to himself as he dressed. Such a cute creature. Daniel found much delight in all of his dolls, and he felt that he treated them all equally, though the truth of that belief was a bit more difficult to discern. Erik was on the special side of things though, Daniel had a soft spot for the more tragic tales and the more interesting stories. He felt it his duty to help all his dolls grow into what they were intended to be, and Erik was one of the more difficult projects, especially considering how skittish he was. All the other dolls, even the more soft spoken ones, were too loud for him.

When he exited the room, Daniel found the dark haired doll exactly as he'd left him, save for his newly buttoned jacket. "You look dashing." He said approvingly, putting his arm around the doll's shoulders again. Erik flushed and looked at the ground with a mumbled thanks. "Let us away then, yes?" Daniel said grandly as they started down the hall again, to the stairs. Not too long after they were situated in the car. Daniel disliked cars, and he'd never learned to drive anyway, thanks to his most...unorthodox upbringing. Which was why he had a hired chauffeur to take him where he pleased.

In a moment of uncomfortable reprise, Daniel's face hardened. Erik leaned against him, a solemn look on his innocent face, and so they passed the ride. As they lived on the coattails of the city, the drive was a bit longer than he'd like, but his sprawling home more than made up for the long drives. Finally they emerged into the rain-laden air. Thankfully the clouds were holding back at the second, and it was only spitting. These grand balls were more than familiar to Daniel, he'd not miss one for his life. He loved the atmosphere, and it gave him vigor to run on for days. And it fueled his terrible habit of buying more sweet creatures to live in his home. It was almost getting out of hand, his house seemed more like a boarding house than a private home, since his dolls had so much autonomy, but he didn't mind. He loved the busy bustle of a full life. He expected interesting happenings, most certainly, and he knew he wouldn't be disappointed. Erik clung nervously to him, his arm tight around Daniel's waist.

Let the party start!

Isaac

Isaac did not look at the woman as she spoke but at her hand, eyelids lowered, as he listened. Cancer. Another thing he didn't know but his brain still somehow found among the creases. Cancer was a terminal disease. No sure cure. Just the sound of it was supposed to make him feel fear. Her laughter after he'd made the inquiry mixed with this new understanding left a bad, very confused taste in his mouth. She had accepted her 'fate', and he didn't know quite what to make of it. So he just looked at her hand, which was laced with his. Human and doll. Dying and never alive to begin with. Then he looked up very slowly a a long paused drowned out her voice. His eyes were quite alert and alive while the rest of him was near completely still, and they flicked to her, all the questions in his mind racing across his dark, reflective eyes.

Her continued words brought him to another thought, one both bitter and sweet. Freedom. The mere concept alone excited and frightened him to no end, but linking it to this woman's death made it all the more chilling. He wouldn't wish death on anyone for his own gain, that was a terrible line of thought. Nobody deserved to die, or be terminated, shut down, and cut off. So he wasn't quite sure what to make of this offer. It was even odd that she made it like an offer, he really had no choice in the matter at all, but then again, perhaps it was by his doing, for being so outspoken right off the bat. But that didn't bother him, that was how he was, and it had worked out alright.

He examined her face for a second, biting the inside of his lip, contemplating her question. "I say that if you're set then I'm not going to argue." He blinked at her, his expression growing less sad for a moment. But then he bit his lip again, this time the white of his teeth showing over his bottom lip. He should probably tell her about his programming, though he couldn't explain it from a technical standpoint. He liked her quite well, admittedly, otherwise he'd have just stayed quiet. But this woman deserved to know. And then if she didn't want him that was fine. He could deal with that. he'd wish her all the best because she was obviously intelligent and strong, and he respected that. She knew what she wanted, and she accepted who she was. If only he could be that way.

"I..." He began after a second, but his voice failed. He tried again after a second, the expression on his face showing blatantly that he was breaching a topic that was very painful for him. "I should warn you. They...I-uh, they messed up when they programed me." His eyes had fallen to her hand again, but he looked up as he spoke again, releasing her hand and folding both of his together, "I-there are pieces missing." He lifted one hand to gesture at his chest and then at his forehead. "And...um...Mel will probably tell you, but I've got a lot of trigger words. To make me shut up and all that." He was not nearly as cool and composed as he'd been before, now he was completely stumbling over his words, trying to express the difficulties he'd encountered in his first moments of life, and dealt with from that instant onwards. "Just to let you know." He added, folding his hands again and looking at the floor. "I'm not a very good doll." He cut a sideways look at the woman and gave a little shrug in a 'what can you do' sort of manner, though he didn't feel that way at all. The deficiencies grated harshly at him, and he was more than a little bitter about it. And she had a right to know that he was lacking in the personality and smoothness of operation categories.

Mika Taylor

After a few seconds his Majesty seemed to relax, his shoulders returning to their usual posture. That made Mika loosen up as well. If Hayden could go back to his usual laid-back self then the chances of everything turning out fine were a bit higher, right? There was still the matter of sleeping arrangements, but he could scope out his Majesty's roommate and see what he could do about preventing any dangerous....mishaps. A young woman approached them then, and Mika's eyes landed upon her just as she spoke. He needed to be more attentive, he chastised himself. Hayden's body tensed up again, and the tall male moved away. Mika, on the other hand, moved in front of his King, warning in the way he carried his body. This body might not be very strong, but he still knew how to fight. Though her words were friendly enough, Mika's response was initiated by Hayden's reaction to her presence.

He stared at the girl warily as His Majesty spoke in a disinterested voice. He knew he looked nothing near intimidating with this terrible new body, but at least the nails were sharp and the form was somewhat lithe. He could do some decent scratching without any practice, if need be. Hayden's voice, when he spoke next, had returned to a slightly easier tone, and Mika straightened, folding his arms over his chest. He could only just see the King in his peripherals, made easier by the body's pale pallour. Then the bright-pink haired girl came over too. She seemed more subservient than she had before, when she was standing there staring at him, but he would not question it. Everyone was an equal threat at the moment, now that he had decent control over this body. He did appreciate that his body was a slight bit shorter and stockier than most of the sticks that were standing around, which gave him an advantage: he had more mass and better balance. So long as he didn't end up as an ankle-biter he'd be fine.

The talk of names brought a thought to Mika's head. They knew their names, and his name was most certainly a male name. Michael. So why had they stuck him in a female body? Unless they'd mistaken his nickname. He hadn't gone by that name in such a long time though, and hadn't tolerated it from many, those including His Majesty, his sweetheart, and a handful of others. Then the fire-starter of a boy shouted again, the one who'd shouted earlier. He was a large threat with his temper like that. Mika paid him little attention though, because he wasn't as near as the two other girls. He was coming to think that they had been female in their past lives as well, because they displayed none of the discomfort he was currently experiencing with his body, which included trying to arrange his arms properly so they didn't press painfully against his breasts.

Hayden made an amused response and Mika took a moment to glance back at the pale form, but he did not move, and his eyes turned quickly back to the three others in the room. Well, until the sounds of what seemed to be a scuffle broke out behind him. He turned, ready to do what he could to defend his king, to see the male sprawled out in a chair, his body language surprised. The chair made a sound like a click as it seemed to grow, opening out. Mika didn't know what to do, s he just stood there, staring at the chair and his King in the chair. He kept half an eye on the others as he watched Hayden investigate the chair, ultimately pushing the bottom back into it's place, which put the chair back as it had been before Hayden fell into it.

When the fair male rose, Mika moved slightly nearer to him, still partially turned towards the others in the room, just to keep an eye on them. Hayden spoke, to himself it seemed, and Mika tipped his head slightly. "I much prefer it that way to the alternative." He murmured, forgetting himself for a moment. It was true though, he liked this quiet better than the prospect that every moment was filled with unpleasant new obstacles to cross. He had enough on his plate as it was, in all honesty. More that he could handle in most situations, but he'd have to make do and do his best. He opened his mouth again, pausing for a moment before speaking. "My Lord, may I take leave to investigate the sleeping arrangements?" He asked, his voice measured. It had been a long time since he'd asked anyone permission to do anything, but in this situation it was crucial that he know what his Majesty wished. He didn't want to leave Hayden alone with no notice, but he needed to scope out the rest on the environment. Just in case. And maybe find somewhere he could train and practice with his new body. Perhaps, if he could sum himself up to ask, he might invite Hayden to join him, since he was no longer in any state to wholly protect his Majesty, putting them both in the best possible form would be a wise decision.

Tamerah
“Not again – no, not again.” Tamerah’s eyes fell to the ground ashamed, this was not in her programming, sexual attraction or tolerance, she was not made to understand it. Heartland ensured that she would be repelled from such things – for business sake – couldn’t have your doll sleeping with all the clients.

Filth ridden rough hands poked and prodded at the smooth plains of her flesh.

Travelling the long slopes and curves of her body.

“Oi! Ya feckers wanna touch ‘er ya is gonna have ta pay!” Tids pulled back on the leash connected to her neck causing her to stumble backwards, bare feet catching the weight of her body, jagged pebbles slicing open her flesh.

“Me!” “No me, I’ll pay more!” “You are going to have to wait your fucking turn boyo, I’ll give you 50!”

The bickering of the crowd was enough to send Tamerah’s head spinning, her value went from 30 to 50 bucks a fuck – god this made her sick.

“Alright lads, ya can have ‘er at tha same time, 25 each, we has a long night ahead, anit got much time. Ya good with tha’?”

All three heads nodded before her face was pushed against the window of the shop – cheek pressed, the cold of the pane comforting, soothing, until those words, those words ripped all her attention back to reality.

“I’m going to make you wish you were never created, I’m going to make you pay for Damien’s sins.”

Fade out.

Fade in.

“One walk around the block, come on ya feckin fake, stand up!”

Tids screamed in her ear while Tamerah lay on the street, knees pinned to chest and arms wrapped around them securely.

“If ya don’t do ya walk than imma ‘ave ta toss ya in the furnace!”

“I just- give me- a mome…”

“No ya get tha feck up now!” A hard boot slammed into the side of her ribs, and she slowly shuffled up wards. While she moved down the street, arms behind back, face to the ground, the members of the slum watched, they laughed, some threw rocks, others flicked the butt end of their cigarettes.

The walks were the worst – the degrading, the slanders that were screamed, the spitting – they hated her, they hated her kind, and finally they had a doll to take it out on.

“Come on now – get inside!”

Through the shop door she was shoved.

“Gotta get ya lookin worth while if any is gonna be buyin’ ya tonight. SIT!”

Tamerah sat on the old rusted stool, her body shaking violently, lips pursed while those stormy blue eyes watched the man gather his supply. He began to wipe her down, soak her in perfumes, and lather on cheap make up.

His hands lingered over her torn womanhood, exploring as his wet tongue snaked out to run the length of his dry and cracked lips. “They sure do know how ta make ya twats real live like, don’t they?”

She cleared her throat, took a deep frustrated breath in. “If you want to sell me then you should probably find me some attire.” Those large eyes, they flashed to look away from him, hoping, praying that he would stop, that she would get his mind back on the task at hand.

“Right, right, I think I have a gown ‘ere somewhere.” As he wandered off to search he continued speaking and Tamerah hunched her back, long deep breaths, focusing, only a little while longer, someone would buy her, someone would recognize her, they had to, and she, she would kill Tids.

“Some lass brought it by, traded it for some smokes and food. Couldn’t find no one ta buy it tho…. AH HA!” His heavy foot falls brought him back to the stool that she rested upon. “What’d ya think of this? Think it’ll do?”

The dress was ugly and surely not suitable for a ball of this magnitude, the smoky purple and dirty ivory material was cheap, holding on by few threads, the back was wide open, but at least it reached the floor. All she did was nod her head, the other dolls – her acquaintances, the people that made her, they will all have to witness her at her lowest, somewhere that no doll deserved to be, and this nearly drove a hole through her programming.

“Well, feckin’ take the thing and put it on!” And she did, she slide the dress on and let fingers attempt to untangle the knots in her long fire hair.

“No time fer that, com’on time ta go! We is gonna be late!”

Garret made a point to smile when Ivy did, trying to reflect the upbeat mood, and glad at her comment. Sure, boring. But that was fine. There was nothing wrong with it, seeing as anything was better than where he was staying. She could be having him sleep on the couch, for all he cared.

It wasn't a long drive, he took note, before they had arrived at Ivy's home. Or, at least, the clock of the car stated it hadn't been long. Garret's anxiousness and excitedness seemed to make sure that each and every time his eyes met the clock, no matter how much time he thought had passed, it had only changed perhaps a minute. He had a new home! No one could blame him for being excited about that. Especially after believing that there was absolutely no way for him to get one.

As the car parked, he quickly followed Ivy's actions, pushing the door open and making his way close to her almost immediately, wanting to stay no more than a couple of steps behind her while he examined the lovely place. A cottage! It was like the kind of homes you saw in pretty advertisements and billboards. Nothing you saw in the city, or even anywhere close to when he'd lived with aunt Kelley. It was big and lovely and picturesque. He almost felt like if he went inside, it would be nothing but cardboard and duct tape, holding up a false image for the background of a commercial, and too good to be true. A couple of boys stood near the yard, and they immediately seemed to find amusement at the sight of Ivy. Or perhaps it was at the sight of Garret? He immediately ducked his head shyly as they snickered.

“Hey, Smurf!” One of them called out before his attention switched over to Garret, though he still seemed to be addressing Ivy. “Finally bought yourself a friend?” The boys cackled. The one took a drag from his cigarette.

Garret's hands balled up into fists. For the instant, he almost didn't care that he was a doll, didn't care that he was supposed to be 'nice' to everyone, and didn't care that they were just a couple of stupid boys. He wanted to run over and punch them in the gut. Maybe if he was real Garret, he would have. But there was no chance of him moving from Ivy's side. Standing up for himself and others had been something that real Garret would have done. Garret just... couldn't bring himself to do anything aside from accept torment. He was a little glad that Ivy seemed to have so much more vigor. She stood up for him with Kelley, and here she was, sticking up for herself because there was nothing stopping her.

“Why don’t you go choke on your fag, Austin.” Ivy had retorted. Garret smiled to himself. The assholes couldn't even come up with anything back, after that. At least, maybe, he didn't have to struggle to stand up for himself, though... He almost worried what would become of him if Ivy wasn't around.

"C'mon," She prompted back at Garret, and his smile flexed slightly more at her as he followed her hastily, having to be careful not to walk too close to her, for risk of stepping on her heels and seeming overly-clingy. What if she didn't like that kind of thing? Sure, she wanted him to be himself and all, but he couldn't be too careful.

Quickly, he followed the blue-haired girl inside, feeling even more amazed at the inside of the structure than he was at the outside. How nice it was! Like a real family home, even if the inside was practically empty, aside from the little cat which came and greeted Ivy as she stepped through. She best down to pet the cat, before looking back at Garret once more, allowing the cat to go off on it's own for now. Garret gave a smile at the sight of the animal, having never lived in a house with any before, even counting real Garret's life. He liked them, but it had always seemed that the people around him were allergic. Of course, not having been around them, he knew he'd have to be weary of the animal, just in case. He wasn't sure whether it was going to like him or not. As soon as he'd realized Ivy was looking at him, though, he looked away from the cat and let his eyes rest back on her, giving her his full attention.

“I’ll show you your room.” She said, and quickly hurried up the stair way.

Garret followed suit, following her up and over to a simple, prim and proper guest room. It was much nicer than the guest room at aunt Kelley's home, he mused. And this was his room! Officially! He couldn't wait to hang up his pictures on the walls, something he wasn't allowed to do in the room that didn't belong to him. Maybe Ivy had some pencils and paper he could borrow, or even a camera. He could make it feel like a real home in no time, as long as that was okay with Ivy of course.

“This is where you will be living.”[i] Ivy said, her voice bringing Garret from his train of thought. [i]“My room is right over there.”

Garret took a quick look over to where she had pointed, and made an affirming nod, making an important head note of where it was for future reference. Surely it would be a hassle if he were to get lost in her home - in his home - and there were probably going to be a lot of times when he would at least go check on her over there. Hopefully she wouldn't find him too bothersome, he found himself thinking, once again feeling self-conscious about different parts of himself. What if she wanted to be left alone most of the day and he kept showing up wanting to talk to her? What if-

The thought was interrupted when Garret heard Ivy's father call something out. His brain, in mid-thought, hadn't caught what was said, but suddenly Ivy was going away from him, and all he could think was that he didn't want her to. He wanted her to stick right with him, to show him around, to just stand there and talk to him about whatever she wanted. He was about to follow her, when she gave the notion for him to stay and just get settled in the room.

“Just make yourself at home.”

Garret bit his lip, taking a few steps into the room - his room - before sliding his backpack off of his shoulders. He plopped the bag down on the bed, unzipping it and digging some of his clothes out until he managed to find the book he'd stowed in there, and placed it down on the top of the dresser in the room. He moved it a couple of times until he was satisfied with it's positioning, before moving back to the messy pile of clothes and scooping them up, tossing them into the top drawer really without rhyme or reason, not bothering to fold them or anything. He could do that later.

Sliding off his shoes, he poked his head back out of the doorway, peering back towards where Ivy had said her room was. He bit his lip a moment. Would she want him to come over on his own? Maybe she wanted him to wait for her to come back and get him. He walked back into the room, pacing a few times before poking his head out the door one more time. Go? Stay? Oh no, he couldn't decide, and found himself pacing the room again. He was a little uncomfortable. Why was he uncomfortable?

He stopped pacing, looking down at his feet.

Shoes. Oh god, he hated wearing shoes inside. Shoes were so constricting, and they made his balance weird. Quickly, he slipped them off, which was easy, seeing as he'd never tied them. He bent to pick them up, and stood in that position staring at the picture that had fallen from his coat pocket.

I almost forgot, He thought to himself, picking it up as he straightened. I'll have to hang it up on the wall. He tossed his shoes in the corner of the room, before placing the image down carefully on the top of the dresser next to his book. Perhaps he could borrow some tape from Ivy, but he could do that later. For now, he was still trying to decide. In the end, his feet moved without him, and he was on his way over. He only managed to stop when he was already half-way there, biting his lip and shifting his feet back and forth before deciding that it was too late to go back, making his way the rest of the way over to her room and poking his head in the door shyly.

"Uh, hi," He spoke awkwardly, feeling a little more mousy and wondering if perhaps he should have just waited for her. Maybe it had been a bad idea. "Umm, sorry. Can I come in?"

Xander Harrowgrove

Flashing party lights. Music that shook and pounded at the very foundations of Earth. Litres of liquor that danced over the edges of wine glasses, beer glasses, mugs - anything that could hold the liquid fire. That was what Xander Harrowgrove was used to, not tailcoats and ballgowns and small-talk that polluted the air in great plumes, which was exactly what lay beyond the immense double doors thrust open to the Heartland Industries Fundraiser, where candlelight flickered on the walls, strained laughter poured into the night like artificially-scented perfume, and the chink and clink of champagne-flutes rattled in the way that the chains of a restrained convict would wear around their wrists.

What was worse than what lay within the ever-looming shadow of the ballroom was the already tight atmosphere held taught as stretched fabric around Xander, his father and the three women accompanying him: his date, whose name continued to evade him; Meora, busy hurrying ahead into the fray; and Emma. Something told him that tonight was not going to be easy; for starters, his father was breathing down his neck, constantly steering him in the direction of the nameless woman, pretty enough, beautiful even, but not...quite right. Then there was the fact that he wasn't looking at 'what's-her-name'; no, he was looking at Emma, and the shimmering blue-green dress, the colour of the crashing ocean, (he wanted to say he was mostly looking at Emma but that would be a lie - because the majority of the time he was, admittedly, looking at the dress). She looked stunning. He didn't dare to say more, just in case his thoughts ran out of control.

As the group of humans - and one doll - climbed the ivory stairs leading to the main hall, they found themselves splitting away at the seams: Meora had rushed on ahead, excited as a child, with her tired father storming off after, though not without shooting a watchful glance at Xander over his shoulder. Well. That wasn't obvious now, was it?

Forcing a smile, Xander turned to both of the girls, "Time to enter the war-zone, it seems." Quickly, they marched into the hall together, arm in arm in arm, still as uncomfortable as ever. As soon as they stepped one foot onto the tiled flooring, they were hit with the symphonic harmony of the orchestra; the difference to the kind of trash he normally listened to was a very stark one. All I need to do was get this over with, he reminded himself persistently, whilst leading the girls onto the dance-floor.

Ivy got up and put the CD into her radio that was close to her bed. She sat back down on her bed as she listened, already liking the album. The girl looked around her room, frowning. Getting up, she picked up some littered clothes, throwing them into the hamper beside her closet.

For probably the umpteenth time, she wondered what it would be like with another person in the house. To not be left alone at nights when her father works late and everyone one else is gone, to not have to sit in her room by herself or pretend that how she lived was normal. In a normal family the mom wasn’t in and out of rehab centers and the brothers always came to visit, at least that what she guessed. Stephano jumped up onto the desk next to her, bringing her back from her thoughts.



Kenleigh picked up her cat, looking back at his amber eyes as he stared at her. The black cat jumped from her arms, though, darting in between Garrets legs as he asked if he could come into her room.Odd question, she thought to herself but just smiled and motioned for him to come in. The girl walked over and turned the radio off. Ivy sat down on her bed, drawing her feet underneath her as she looked at Garret, “What’s up?” She asked, yawning. Oh God, she was tired. But she knew she couldn’t sleep, she found it kind of rude to just leave Garret to his own devices and sleep, plus she had to do something else but couldn’t remember.

What was I supposed to do? She asked herself before she remembered, the Ball. Ugh, the ball. Why would people go to those? All they were was fake smiles, fancy clothes and boring talks. Plus she had to wear a dress, the girl would much rather go in a t-shirt and jeans, but nooo, her dad would murder her.

Maybe they could say they went and ditched? Probably not, her dad wasn’t very well known, but he knew just the right people to see if she actually went. Ugh.

“We have to go to a ball tonight, don’t we?” She asked, almost scowling. As if her father heard, he yelled something about her needing to go by a nice dress for the party. The girl put her head in her hands, “I don’t want to go.” She said, her voice muffled.

"Finished!" Mr. Lucas exclaimed admiring his work. The slimming black suit looked so dashing a streamlined, and the old tailor was confident that the finished tailoring job would make the boy look taller, at least from a distance.

"It's about damn time," Wyatt responded, pulling his phone from pocket and checking the time quickly. Yes, the ball was probably starting by now, or perhaps it was about to start, he wasn't sure. He didn't care about being late, not in the least, but he'd never hear the end of it from his father if he was. Sure, he would love to irritated his father any other time, but this time he'd be in the same building as his father for an entire damn night, and there wouldn't be any way to stop him if he started chastising him. "I'll have to get going as soon as possible."

"Will you be wearing that out, then?" Mr. Lucas asked, giving a glance over at Duncan as he brought over Wyatt's neatly folded clothes with a sweet and polite smile.

Wyatt quickly took the clothes from him, giving a nod to the man as he began the tread back in the direction of the rest of the store. "Yes, and there's a young lady-" He paused, biting his lip a moment before correcting himself. "-ah, a doll, I mean - with me. I told her to grab a dress for herself. I'll be purchasing that as well, and I'll just need you to let her into the dressing room to change into that, alright?" He looked back at the tailor in search of an affirmation, before setting his sights back on where he was going. When Sunny came into view, he quickly made note that she'd found something, seeing the little pink dress in her hands. He gave her a small smile as he approached, putting a light hand on her shoulder as he walked past, continuing on his way towards the front counter for payment.

"Looks like you didn't have any trouble finding something," He said to her as he passed by. "Sorry that took so long, we'll be leaving in just a second."

"Duncan, show the little lady to the dressing rooms so she can change into it," Mr. Lucas said, making his way up to Sunny and unpinning the price tag from it so that he could ring it in with the purchase. Duncan gave a nod and a smile, turned his attention to Sunny, giving a nice, welcoming, "Follow me, please!" before beginning to lead her away towards the back again, looking back at her occasionally to make sure she was following.

"Mr. Lucas, do you have a tie that will match her dress by any chance?" Wyatt asked, leaning against the front counter and fishing through the pockets of his folded jeans for his wallet.

"You want to wear a pink tie?" The man asked, raising his brows. "And I was surprised enough that you didn't mind spending this much money just for a doll."

"You're right, you're right," Wyatt said, nodding and fishing his credit card out of his wallet. This particular credit card was the one that would be charged directly from his father. "Make it a bow tie instead, that will look much better."

The man shrugged. Surely there was nothing he could say to change the mind of a spoiled rotten business tycoon's son. Especially not one like Wyatt Roswell, who was about as rotten and pompous as they came. What had been the most recent edition in the tabloids? Oh yes, a police officer had been trying to tell him that he was too intoxicated to drive home from his father's company's benefit, and Wyatt had promptly poured a glass of champagne over the officer's head. Later to be arrested, but bailed out with daddy's money. It couldn't be helped. Mr. Lucas promptly shuffled off to retrieve the bow tie, coming back and handing it to Wyatt before sliding in behind the counter and punching all the prices into the register.

"That'll be-"

"Yeah, I really don't care," Wyatt said, stepping on the man's words before he could utter the obscene price aloud. It didn't matter in the least, it was his father's money to waste, and it was his father's fault for entrusting him with it. He simply held out the credit card. "If you wanna throw on an extra couple hundred dollars, I still wouldn't care."

The man took the card with a little raise of his eyebrows. What a brat, huh? Wyatt played the part perfectly. While the man rung out the purchase, he quickly tied the tie around his neck, recalling from the many times he'd had to get all dressed up how to tie it himself. He hated when people tried to do it for him, and was glad that Mr. Lucas hadn't tried. By the time the card was being handed back to him, and shoved back into the wallet, he could hear Sunny coming back, all decked out in that pretty little dress of hers. She looked... Adorable. He could admit that, couldn't he? Yeah, that was fine to think... Since she was a doll and stuff. She was supposed to look cute! And at least she'd picked out a good dress for herself. At least he could trust her with the task of picking out her own clothes.

He debated saying something to her about the dress, but simply bit his lip. Should he be saying something? Was it necessary? Oh god, he certainly couldn't go calling her cute and adorable in front of other people. Who knew what kind of rumors it would start about his personality! They might think he had a soft spot for cute little dolls, and that was the last thing he wanted. Sure, he hadn't determined his feelings towards the bubbly little doll yet. He was still unsure, and had to think about it a little more. Yes, he could admit that she looked cute, but he'd only be admitting that in his head, that was for sure.

"Good, you're all set," He said to her, facing her but averting his eyes, almost shyly though it was hard to tell. He picked up his folded stack of clothes and took a step away from the counter. "Sorry, I probably should have mentioned this when I realized how short we are on time, but we're going to head to the heartland Ball first it turns out. There just isn't time to stop at home before hand, but we'll probably leave early anyway. Either way, we should head out now. Do you have all your stuff?"

"Don't you just look pretty as a princess," Evan stated, giving a grin at Adina. Adina barely gave a glance up at him before straightening his gaze, letting his eyes simply stare into the direction he was facing, which happened to be at the man's chest at the moment where the stood in the hallway. "Well, you both do," Evan added as a side note, shifting his gaze over to Brittany, who pulled off the obvious-heartland-employee-working-her-way-through-what-should-have-been-a-night-off look very well.

"Thanks," Brittany replied, rolling her brown eyes.

Evan turned his attention back to Adina, putting a hand on top of the doll's head like one might do with a child. "Good luck finding a new owner! I sure hope I don't see you again after this. I mean, I'd take you home with me, but I'm not into dudes."

"Well, you're still our fail safe, Evan! Your disgusting preferences aside; if we don't sell him tonight, I am forcing you to take him home with you," Brittany replied, placing her hands on her hips defiantly.

"Maybe, okay? I don't make that much money in this position!" He replied, pouting. "And I was saving up for a custom, too!" He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, if it started to look like it'll come to that, I'll do it so that all our work doesn't go to waste, alright? But, hey, try to have fun and the ball tonight at the very least!"

"I don't want to go."

Brittany and Evan's eyes widened, and they both looked towards Adi at the same time. Did he... did he just talk again? They were sure they wouldn't be getting anything more from the little doll, but Adi was desperate. He didn't care if he had to use more words. He didn't. Want. To. Go. That was that, and so far, they just weren't getting the message.

"Adi, I thought you were done talking to us?" Brittany uttered, putting her hand on the small of his back, trying to comfort him. Obviously, if the doll was acting this much out character, something was definitely on his mind and worrying him.

"I'm desperate," Adina uttered, and he bit his lip, letting his shoulders slump downwards. He paused a moment, picking the right words so that he would not use any more than he had to. It was enough of a shock that he'd used this many more than he'd already decided to allow the two heartland workers. Still, it was his last resort, and perhaps he could at least get the suspense over with and they could dub him as failed more quickly. "I'm nervous," He added, and his phrase began another pause. He didn't like the way the two sentences didn't flow. They were too similar, and he wished he'd said 'and' instead of using 'I'm' again. At least then the phrases would have seemed to role together more easily. "No one will want me."

"That's not true, Adi," Evan replied, furrowing his brows. "You're a total sweetheart. Someone will snatch you up in a heartbeat, I'm almost positive."

"Almost." Adi repeated, and he himself was impressed at how quickly he managed to get the word out, and sure that the word alone was the best possible retort for Evan's entire comment. Especially since Evan had used it himself.

Evan was silent. Brittany was silent. Yes, the whole situation depended on a bunch of 'maybe's. Adi didn't like those kinds of words. Maybe, and Almost. So unsure, indefinite. Maybe he'd be purchased. Maybe someone would want him. Maybe he wouldn't be decommissioned. It wasn't a good word, even if some people made it out to be one. It was neutral. It was neither yes nor no. It was like limbo, like emptiness. Heartland was kind of like limbo, Adi mused. It was a place between being not alive, and being alive. Perhaps that was what he should have told Isaac, though he wasn't quite sure that the boy would have gotten the reference to what Limbo was. Still, Adi was almost confident he could have explained it, and explained it perfectly, with that thought. Heartland was limbo because it was almost nothing. It was simply waiting around until someone decided whether you would live or die. Heartland was, itself, defined by the word "maybe."

Adi glanced over as he heard Brittany sigh, and furrowed his brows. He didn't like causing either of them distress. Honestly, he didn't like to cause anyone distress, that was just one of those qualities that were very common in most dolls. He sighed, echoing Brittany, and looking down at his feet, wedged into glittery tan sandals. He almost went to apologize, but decided against it, in case there was still a chance his words would change their minds at the last minute. He didn't want to give up that easily, but still, he was sorry from his behavior. He found himself shooting an apologetic look up at them.

"We'll just have to hope for the best," Brittany said finally, flexing a small smile. "There's nothing else we can do right now."

Adi sighed one more time, giving a light nod before straightening his spine and picking up his head, regaining composure for that stupid party. Really, his biggest hope was to be able to change his clothes soon. He was getting so tired of such a constricting gown, with a long hem and a thick material. It had looked so pretty on the hanger, and he'd been excited to wear it originally, but now that it was on... He wished he had gone with the black dress instead, or maybe had gone with one of the suits. Those, at least, would have been lighter and easier to move in, he was sure.

"Yeah, you two should get going. I'm about to head home now, anyway," Evan butted in, shoving his hand into the pocket of his white lab coat, just to check and make sure that his cigarette pack was still in there. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Brittany replied, pushing her hand against Adi's back and forcing him to move forward. Adina looked back over his shoulder when they were halfway down the hall, to see if he could spot Evan, but the tall young man was long gone.

By this point, Heartland's ballroom was beginning to grow a steady bustle of people, decked out in fancy outfits and holding champagne and chattering with people and representatives. The music was hardly anything to sneeze at either, and even if Adina was one for classical instruments, that didn't mean he was a huge fan of classical music. He wasn't sure what the purpose was of that. The whole thing was so... gaudy... It was so... what was the word that Darren would have used for an event like this one? Tacky. Really, Adina didn't like two things about the place; it was noisy, and it was full of alcohol. He'd never minded being around the stuff before the accident, but.... Some things just couldn't get out of his head.

Brittany lead him to one of the tables on the far left of the ballroom, which sat among the others that would seat Heartland employees and dolls that would be at the benefit. Unlike the others that were there, Adi wouldn't be placed up for the auction, of course. He was damaged, and Heartland wasn't really interested on drawing that much attention to the fact that they were really trying to sell such damaged goods. The damaged logo of the company was enough to cringe at. They might make a reference to him, saying something like 'be sure to check out some of the other dolls we have for sale here that won't be up for auction!' or something along those lines, before actually starting the auction itself. Not that he expected anyone to buy him at all, of course. They'd probably just walk straight past him.

"You can sit down here," Brittany suggested, pulling out the chair for him. Adi promptly dropped down into it, though he kept himself straight in posture, at least to keep himself looking proper, even if he wasn't quite feeling up to it. "I need to down a drink really quick, just so I'll be able to make it through this night, but I'll be right back."

Adi furrowed his brows at the comment, but simply sighed, looking down at his hands, which sat neatly folded in his lap. There wasn't anything he could do about the drinking, but at least just the one drink wouldn't so severely intoxicate Brittany. Even Darren had had the occasional drink when Adi had been with him. It just wasn't enough of a thought to comfort him in a place with so much drinking. It was a bit frightening. He bit his lip, trying to push his thoughts onto something else and looking around the ball room curiously. He almost wanted to go explore it, but knew that Brittany would have advised against it, seeing as it was such a public event. Perhaps, if she wasn't back soon, he could just say that he had been looking for her. That was believable enough, and even still, she never really got mad at him for running off anyway.

He started to wonder if that other doll would be at the party, too. Isaac... Maybe he was on auction or something? Though Adi couldn't see him. Still, he wondered if there would be a chance to say good bye to the other boy, at least, since he had been so nice. Then again, perhaps he shouldn't. He had talked enough for one day, and there was always the chance that the other doll didn't care, either way. Adi sighed, trying to observe some of the other people that came in through the doors instead, arms linked with their girlfriends and boyfriends and followed by their neatly groomed little dolls. He really did want an owner, but he was just so nervous about the whole thing. Darren had never wanted to share him in the past. He never let his friends even touch him. Would he want Adina to go so willingly to another person like that? He sighed. This was too complicated. Why couldn't he be like one of those other dolls? The kind that didn't think much, didn't feel much. Those ones had it easy. Adi, on the other hand, was designed to be a learner. Too bad most of the things he'd learned so far absolutely sucked.

Damien peered out of the window of his limo as it sped towards the ball. There were two town cars in front and two behind it, he never could be too careful. His mind was miles away, back in the depths of one of his many hideouts.

He sat in a stool at the bar, sipping on his scotch. It was a 200 year old Glen Mckenna on the rocks. The smooth texture brought him little comfort. The door adjacent to his bar burst open, and two of his men dragged a bloody mess of a man to Damien's feet. The man let out a small whimper as one of his men grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head up. Damien calmly swirled his scotch, his eyes on the amber liquid.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
The man stammered, "Y-y-y-y-yes, sir."
"Then I have a disadvantage, since I haven't a clue who you are."
"I-I-I-I-" the man was too frightened to speak.
"He works for some scumbag in the poor district. We couldn't get his employers name," his man said. Damien stood up from his bar stool, placing his glass against the bar-top. He loomed over the man, his eyes piercing into the man's soul. Damien's eyes widened, and he jammed his index finger and middle finger down the man's eye sockets. The man howled in extreme pain.
"I don't need you to see for you to answer me. I don't need you to fear the man you're protecting. I just need you to know that I will do unspeakable things to you if you don't tell me EXACTLY what I want to know," Damien hissed, "Now, who do you work for?!"
The man screamed out in pain. Fear enveloped him, so much so that he couldn't hold his secret anymore.
"T-t-Tids! His name is Tids! Please spare me!" he yelped.
Damien smiled menacingly, "I never said I would do that." He kicked the man's chest with tremendous force. With the position of his fingers, Damien's kick removed the man's face from his body. The man reeled on the ground, covering the hole in his head where the majority of his face used to be, and Damien crouched down next to him, dropping the bloody mass of bone and skin next to him. he held out his hand, and one of his men handed him a bottle of chili pepper.
"You have done well in providing this information. I expect that you'll try to get this fixed, so I have something else in mind."
Damien grabbed the man around the throat and dosed him with the chili pepper. The man began screaming bloody murder. Damien then pulled a gun off of one of his men and dropped it on the floor next to the man.
"This is your only salvation," he muttered into the man's ear. As Damien walked behind the bar to fetch a towel to clean the man's blood off of himself, the man grasped the gun as best he could, put it up to his bloodied temple, and pulled the trigger. He fell limp.
His man spoke, "Sir, we have confirmed Tids' whereabouts. It appears he is traveling to the Heartland Ball with an unknown synthetic female."
Damien smiled. He liked the word 'synthetic.' 'Doll' implied weakness, inferiority, and servitude. Traits he despised.
"Very well. Tighten up security at the decommission plant, and cleanse Tids' shop. This rat will not scurry away from me."
"Yes sir. We have recovered something else from Tids' man." He handed over a folded piece of cardboard. As Damien unfolded it, he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. On it said, One fuck with the Lords doll $30.00.
"I'm heading to the Ball now. Prepare my limo. It is a charity event, after all," Damien said through gritted teeth. He tossed the sign on the bar-top and headed out towards the car.

He snapped out of his daze as the limo pulled up to the entrance. He straightened the tie on his tuxedo, let out a sigh, and stepped out of his limo. Immediately he and his men were swarmed by dozens of reporters, all shouting questions and snapping pictures, desperate to get their private interview with the infamous Damien Jackson. His guards kept the reporters at bay while Damien walked up the steps towards the Ballroom. Before entering, he turned and faced the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a special occasion for Heartland Industries. Please try to show some class," he announced.
Without waiting for a response, he turned towards the building and entered the ballroom with his men in tow.

Daniel Clemment

Daniel felt electric. He needed this. He really did. One arm slung low around Erik's waist and the other delicately cradling a champagne flute, he made meaningless small talk with a myriad of almost strangers. He was well known, and he knew many people, so naturally he had to continue to cultivate the acquaintanceships he'd crafted. A few words, an infectious laugh, it didn't take much. He knew many of the people he made parley with were more than likely viciously jealous of him, so rich for being nothing but a tragic boy with a sob story, but he didn't care. Being around so many people made him feel alive, sparking with energy. It was almost laughable how turning conversation towards his speaking partner could make him feel so needed. A complement, a broad smile, a rapt inquiry. So seemingly selfless. Erik was obviously nervous, shy. He took Daniel's promise quite literally and stuck fast to his hip, as if letting go would mean his demise. Which, in his own mind, if verily could. After what he'd been through. Poor, sweet boy.

Looking at all the dolls following their owners about made Daniel smile slightly, a faint expression thoroughly devoid of pleasure. Trained just like dogs, they were. If they'd come with any personality at all. Daniel disliked the owners of such dolls. Those who custom ordered their very own blind servants. Just as bad as those terrors that abused their dolls or abandoned them with little word of explanation. All these poor flowers crushed before they could ever open and discover themselves. Typically Daniel allowed his companion to run off wherever he or she pleased at such occasions as this, but Erik was a bit of a special case, since he'd likely refuse good money to go off on his own.

"Sir," the boy whispered not thirty minutes after they'd arrived, "how long must we stay?"

For Erik alone, he would have left the ball early, but he did have some measure of appearances to keep up. And leaving so soon wouldn't do anything for anyone. "Don't worry, Erik, no one here will harm you. I promise, cross my heart." He said, making a vague gesture with the half-sipped glass in his other hand. "Maybe you'll find a friend, it hasn't been that long, barely anyone is here yet." Which was true enough. He was a tad on the early side, actually. Keeping company with the older contributors who didn't deem it suitable to be fashionably late anymore.

In an off moment where Erik wasn't tugging anxiously at him and no one had demanded his immediate attention, Daniel paused in his socializing to reorient himself and consolidate his mindset. He felt good right now, the faintest hints of a roguish smile quirking his lips and Erik's dark head resting against his shoulder. Yes, the sheer amount of socializing he was engaging in would last him ages, if all went well, and no small thing ruined his currently rushing mindset. This was what he came for, and he stayed for the auction. Though he really shouldn't be buying, it didn't stop him from looking. Searching for those poor dolls that really deserved a place to live instead of an owner to serve. He'd gotten quite a bit of unneeded publicity for his actions in that area recently. Mostly because his purchasing of dolls seemed almost like a chronic disease. A good illness, but an illness nonetheless. One that had bred an eclectic collection of dolls. It was of no consequence though, he had set himself up well, a few little connections in the right place, a few investments, and he had very few worries about his economic status. He really didn't care about money anyway, he just needed to support his little ragtag family. And a number of the little sweethearts were a bit spoiled as it was.

Jerked suddenly from his revive by Erik's fidgeting, Daniel wound back into motion like a clockwork creature, a full smile springing back to his face as he dove back into the mild fray of small talk and social tension to seek out another acquaintance to suck dry with his amiable conversation.

Olive watched him as he watched her, seemingly thinking her question over. . "I say that if you're set then I'm not going to argue," he said at last, with a bite of his lip. She had to admit, he looked incredibly adorable. ”I…” He seemed to fade off, not knowing what to say, or perhaps choked by some unknown worry. Regardless of his reason, this time it was her turn to offer comfort. She gingerly gave his hand a little comforting squeeze."I should warn you. They...I-uh, they messed up when they programed me." She frowned a little, wondering what he could mean as she watched the doll grow ever more uncomfortable. He seemed to withdraw into himself, even pulling his hand away to hold his own. "I-there are pieces missing…and, um… Mel will probably tell you, but I've got a lot of trigger words. To make me shut up and all that."

Olive watched quietly as his confidence began to deflate like a forgotten party balloon. His once smooth tone was now broken and choppy, as if he were fighting some inner battle over admitting his faults. "Just to let you know…. I’m not a very good doll.” So, even dolls who were the physical embodiment of perfection were afraid of rejection, of not being enough. The irony of it all made her smile a little. “You mean you’re not perfect,” she said with a smile, reaching over to gently place a hand on his back. She ran her palm tenderly up and down his spine, like her mother used to do when she was sick. “Well, I guess we’re two peas in a pod then, hm? I’m just as genetically broken as you say you are, only, I have too many pieces. All scattered about in my body, and multiplying every day.”

Olive smiled at him and stood up, holding out her hand for him to take it and join her. “So I guess we will make the perfect pair. You’re not a good doll, and I’m not a good human. Neither of us asked to be this way, and yet here we are. You’re perfect, and I’ll take you.” As if on cue, Mel came back into the room announcing that the ball had started. Splendid. People. Oh joy. “Time to face the music, I guess,” she said with a playful shrug, pulling Isaac up from the couch. “Just to warn you, I’m a terrible dancer—but that’s not going to stop me from making a fool out of you!”

---

The ball was breathtakingly beautiful, enough to bring a smile to even a dead girl’s lips. After giving a short speech about her cancer, and Heartland’s charity, and how the money of the night will go to help her, and others like her, Olive was free to let Isaac whisk her away into the crowd of people. “Well, I’ll give them this—they sure know how to throw a party…” Olive looked over to him with a devious grin, and started to lead him to the dance floor when a stabbing pain stopped her in her tracks. She winced, hand tightening onto his as she froze. Hundreds of colorful dresses flashed in and out of her view as people walked around them. None of them had time for a dead girl. They were too rich, too happy, too alive.

She reached out with her other hand, grabbing Isaac’s shoulder to steady herself. She felt dizzy all of the sudden. Then, as if it had never happened, the pain was gone. She let out a shaky sigh and smiled weakly up at him. “I think I could use a drink. Tell you what. I will be sitting over there,” she nodded to the row of large red leather couches, each tucked into their own cubbyhole make-shift room of curtains, “you go get a glass of water for me, and anything you’d like from the bar.” She was still a little unsteady, but she released his hand anyway and gave him a brave smile and a curt nod before turning on her heel to make a b-line for the couch. The room was going topsy-turvy again. It was going to be a long night.

Emma nearly vibrated with excitement as their limo came to a stop. All of the girls had crushed together, their dresses mingling in soft whispers of fabric. Emma was forced to sit next to the head of their house, rather than her owner, but she didn’t mind. She was excited nonetheless. Xander’s sister was the first to swoop out of the car, past the blinding lights of paparazzi and into the building. Emma didn’t bother to hold back a smile as her father went chasing after her, ignoring the press as well. Xander’s date, Clarissa, was a tall and beautiful thing, though starkly different from Emma’s vampiric design. Regardless, she was stunning, and hanging all over the left side of her master. Was it jealousy she was feeling?

“Time to enter the war-zone, it seems." Emma looked over to Xander with a grin, and then faced the double doors that were opened for them. It was just like a fairytale. The symphonic harmony of the orchestra blared to life as if on cue. Xander seemed to sink further into his sullen expression as he guided Emma and Clarissa over to the dance floor. Dancing, how fun! But who would she dance with? It was a ball, after all, and Xander would be expected to dance with his date. It was just then that Emma spotted a woman sitting alone at a table. Confidence being her middle name, she whisked away from Xander’s side and to the table, offering the man a winning smile. “Would you like to dance?” Only after she had come up close did she realize that the woman was actually a doll, like her. Furthermore, the ‘woman’ was actually male.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from grinning all the same. “My owner’s here with someone, but wants to dance. Help a girl out? I’m a terrible dancer, but, if you could lend me a hand, I’d really appreciate it… if your owner won’t mind,” she added as an afterthought. What if Xander didn’t want her dancing with anyone else? What if she had upset him by dashing off like she had? A ping of panic vibrated through her for only a split moment, but she just as quickly dismissed it. Xander would want her to have a good time, and this boy was beautiful; literally. After all, she had mistaken him from afar as a female. That didn’t matter to Emma. Blame it on the programming, or perhaps she just didn’t care. She wasn’t the standard doll, either, so who was she to judge? She wanted to dance, he had two feet; end of story. “Please?” she added, holding out a hand for him to take.

“What’s up?” Ivy asked, giving a little yawn. She'd trailed over to her bed and sat down on the edge of it, and Garret figured he could take her words and her body language as a sort of 'yes, you can come in.' So, meekly, he stepped into the room, coming in slowly almost as if he were creeping inside, so as to not be caught in the act of doing so.

"Nothing, I was just," He began, a little bit fumbled with his explanation. After all, what was his reasoning for coming into her room? Had he wanted to talk about something? Had he needed something? If there had been any rational reason at all, well, he certainly couldn't remember it for the life of him. The only reason he could think of, if it could even be considered a reason, was... well, it was sort of embarrassing. He didn't want to leave her without an answer, but he almost didn't want to say it. "I just... Well, I got a little lonely by myself..." His voice trailed off, and he let his eyes wander away from her, hoping that perhaps her mind was too far on other things to realize what exactly it was that he had said.

Biting his lip, he looked back at her, a little relived at the expression on her face. She seemed quite deep in her own thoughts, so at the very least, maybe it would be left alone, and he wouldn't have to deal with getting all flushed over that embarrassing quality of his personality. It wasn't his fault that he wanted to be around others. It was a new place, after all. He just wasn't sure he could handle being all by himself in this new home just yet. Couldn't he just spend as much time with Ivy that he could?

A look of realization seemed to strike onto Ivy's face, though it seemed to be paired with just a bit of dread for what she had realized. “We have to go to a ball tonight, don’t we?” She asked rhetorically, almost seeming to scowl. She really didn't want to go to the ball, did she? Garret almost wanted to smile at how that was sort of funny, throwing such a fit about having to go, if it weren't for the fact that he didn't like the idea of her being so upset in the first place. He found himself furrowing his brow at the expression she gave, instead.

She dropped her head down into her hands, which muffled the next words to come out of her mouth, though he just barely caught what they were; “I don’t want to go.”

He bit his lip, shifting awkwardly on his feet and not sure what he should he should do to try and comfort her. He shuffled around in a little circle around her room before coming a little closer to Ivy, sitting down on the floor in front of her so that he was looking up at her. He wasn't so sure about sitting on the bed with her, or even if she would want him touching her or not. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it once again. What did she even want him to call her? Did she want a more formal title to be used? She had mentioned that she wanted a friend, or... had wanted him to be more like a friend to her. So, perhaps it would be fine to just call her Ivy.

"It'll be okay, Ivy," He spoke, finally. He gave a small smile at the blue haired girl, trying to lighten her mood a little bit. "I'm sure we can find a way to make some fun out of it! We could... Um...." Biting his lip again, he tried to think of some good reasons. Well, sure, he could think of plenty of more mischievous ways to have some fun, but found himself a little hesitant to show off such a side of him that was... could it be called disobedient? Perhaps, he wasn't sure. At the very least, maybe the ideas themselves would brighten up his little owner's mood. "I mean... Who wouldn't want to make fun of some of the stuffy people at that dumb party?"

He dropped the smile after a moment though, his gaze shifting away while he thought about the situation a little more. "Now that I think about it, I don't really have anything to wear to that kind of party... I mean, I have some clothes, but... I think they'll end up matching even less than what I'm wearing right now."

He sighed, letting his gaze become downcast for a moment while he tried to think. Not that thinking would make the situation any better. It wouldn't make the night any more bearable, and it wouldn't make someone want to buy him. No, he really should try to think as little as possible for the time being. Looking deep in thought would make him less appealing to some people, and he should look much more alert in case anyone came his way, or would be more interested in seeing a happy, friendly-looking doll. Yes, he picked his head up once again, pushing away his more sullen thoughts.

It was a good thing he did so, too, because a lovely young lady seemed to be approaching. She couldn't be coming towards him, could she? Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps she had her eyes on someone else, someone behind him or something. Just to be sure, he found himself giving a quick glance at his surroundings. This... This just didn't make much sense at all. The girl was another doll, he could tell, from the little glint of the silver emblem in her throat, so... why was she coming over to Adina? He found himself staring at her, and tried to will himself to stop, though he couldn't. He probably seemed kind of weird; wide-eyed with lips softly parted, looking as if someone had hit him upside the head. But this... was kind of confusing.

He tilted his head to one side at her as she had approached, standing in front of him. An elegant beauty in a stunning dress. That perfection and beauty which was so typical for dolls seemed to have some kind of extra quality on this girl, though he couldn't tell what it was. Something about her was different, and had an alluring elegance in itself. She'd walked in with an owner, Adi recalled, or at the very least, she walked in with a number of humans, any of which could possibly be her owner. So what did she want with Adina? He was hardly good company to keep, and he doubted this other doll had much business looking at the owner-less dolls. Hell, he was always surprised to find any doll paying more attention to someone else than they were to their owner.

“Would you like to dance?” She suddenly asked, giving a smile that could charm anyone. This question of hers did seem to answer some of his own questions. He understood what she wanted now, and he understood her reasoning but... Oh god, it left him with so many other questions all at the same time. Sure, this was a party and all, so who wouldn't want to have a little fun but... Why would she want to dance with him of all people?

“My owner’s here with someone, but wants to dance. Help a girl out? I’m a terrible dancer, but, if you could lend me a hand, I’d really appreciate it… if your owner won’t mind,” She seemed to add the last sentence as an after thought. It was an understandable inquiry to add, seeing as some owners preferred to keep their dolls to themselves. Darren had been kind of like that, but who could blame him when half of his friends had made fun of the small doll? Darren had only wanted to protect Adina. Well, that, and Darren didn't really like sharing, either way. Sure, there wasn't really any sort of problem with that now, was there? Adi's owner was gone, so, did that mean he didn't need permission? He took a glance in the direction of the bar, trying to spot Brittany. She was supposed to be in charge of him, but would she really mind? He kind of doubted it. After all, more people would see him if he was out and about, wouldn't they? And that would mean that maybe someone who'd want him would see him too. Maybe. Surely, she'd be fine with dancing. What harm could it possibly do?

“Please?” She urged, putting out her hand for Adina to take.

Oh, this was just so peculiar. Surely he hardly expected anyone to talk to him, but he was almost sure that his expectations for being spoken to by other dolls was far, far less. Still, he found himself giving a small, sweet little smile, his head downward shyly as he slipped his hand into the girl's and stood up. She seemed like she must have been naturally shorter than him, though with her in heels and him wearing a much flatter pair of fancy sandals, their faces were at just about the same level, or perhaps she was a little above him.

"Seeing as I don't have an owner," he finally mused aloud to her, straightening his gaze and trying to relieve his expression of the shyness. Still, his cheeks felt a little hot, and he couldn't help but worry that he was slightly flushed. "I don't think that my owner will mind."

He shrugged, keeping a kind smile on his face. He was tempted to explain further, just in case, that he was here because he was for sale, though he decided the statement could be left out. Surely she could put two and two together. From the way she spoke and held herself, she seemed at least to be clever and personable. Surely he wouldn't need to use quite so many words with this girl, though, he figured, he should at least put forth an introduction before dancing with her, shouldn't he? At the very least, he'd like to know the name of his dancing partner. It was only polite.

"I'm Adina, by the way," he said, the usual pause in between his statements hanging in the air. Perhaps he seemed slow, but he supposed that was okay. He really was, after all, but he just couldn't understand that ability of others to get the words out so quickly and so perfectly. His mind was constantly picking and choosing, almost as if he had to run through an entire dictionary to find the perfect words for his sentence, rehearse the line in his head a few times, and then say it. Which, of course, is almost exactly what he typically did. He hated using too many words, or fumbling over a sentence. At least, this way, he always got it right. "And you are?"

Ivy lifted her head as Garret began to speak. He was trying to cheer her up, how sweet. The girl couldn’t help the smile as he suggested making fun of people at the ball, “Oh, I’m pretty sure we can do more than just make fun of them.” She said, her smile widening as he said he had nothing to wear, that would match at least.

“Well, I’m sure we can find you something.” She said as she got up. She went and sat next to him, “After all, I don’t have anything Ball worthy either.” Ivy looked over at her closet, almost overflowing with regular shirts and jeans. It wasn’t messy, just over packed with clothes, a lot she never really wore. “Yeah, I should get rid of some things,” She said, mostly to herself. Since they both had to go get clothes for the ball, there was one boutique that the girl would like to go to. She had only ever been there once and had stashed away the business card in a box she hid underneath her bed. She had kept it in case she wanted to go again and forgot the location.


It wasn’t really much of a boutique per say, more of those stores that had everything for everyone. Thrown together to create a cute little store fittingly named Down the Rabbit Hole.

Ivy slipped underneath her bed and grabbed the box, dragging it back out and sitting back. It was a decent sized box. She used it put things in it for a keepsake, but now it just sat underneath her bed collecting dust. The girl opened the box, instantly noticing the Mardi Gras hat she got a few years ago. Ivy grabbed it, lightly putting it on Garret’s head. She looked at him for a moment, grinning.

“You look wonderful.” She said, almost giggling. Ivy went back to search for the business card, setting out more things she had forgotten about. She found the diary she had in middle school, which at the time she had humorously titled, The Useless Ramblings of My Pathetic Life. It had been funny then, now it was just sad. She put the diary down and finally found the card. She grabbed it.

“Guess we need to go shopping,” She said, looking at Garret and the hat, “You can keep that if you want.” She really didn’t need it, “If you don’t that’s fine too.”

She smiled at Garret as she put the rest of the things back into the box before she walked over to her desk and scribbled the location of the boutique onto a piece of paper, putting the paper in her pocket before she sat back down. She pushed the box back under her bed, her head and upper body disappearing with it.

She heard a soft mew from under her bed and jerked her head up to see Stephano sitting in front of her. Because she looked up so quickly, her head hit the wooden boards on her bed, causing her to swear lightly under her breath. She shuffled back out, watching as her cat followed her. He seemed to watch Garret a moment before walking over to him and sitting in his lap.

“D’aww, he likes you.” Ivy said, grinning. Stephano’s eyes were shut to slits and he began to purr. Ivy smiled, giving the cat a quick pet before lying down on the floor. She yawned again, not really wanting to move but she knew they had to leave soon. At the rate they were moving, they were going to be so, so late. But she really didn’t care.

“I guess we should go get what we need for the ball.” She said, sitting up once more. Ivy brushed some hair out of her face before glancing at Garret with a tiny smile.

Tamerah
“Come on now ya whore! We gottsa be sneakin’ in through the back, the kitchen staff be on smoke break, come on come on!” Tids hissed under his breath as he tucked at the chains that held snug around Tamerah’s wrists.

The cold shackles were nothing – they had no comparison to what the Heartland Industries were about to witness.

Through those kitchen doors the pair shuffled, scurried until breaking through out into the main ballroom. Tids sighed with relief that they hadn’t been caught, Tamerah on the other hand, her eyes were pinned to that polished and reflective floor. Eyes tracing the shape of her bare filthy feet – dirt wedged between the toenails and flesh, a light dusting of brown and black spread over the pale white flesh.

She was disgusting.

That head of radiant brick red hair; although in matted tangles, stood out in the crowd against that snow white skin. The face of the well-known woman was hidden behind that long rat nest mane.

“Ya best be lookin’ up, gotta get ya sold tonight.” He growled, his voice like that of thunder breaking through the silence of a small forgotten town.

“Yes sir.”

“And ya do not forget that I be ya owner, ya do as I say, ya hear me?!”

“Yes sir.” She brought her head to meet the crowd, a small faint blush of pink reaching high cheeks, storm blues settling on the faces before her although those eyes, means of sight, empty of life, drifting aimlessly through the sea, lost without a fog light.

Pulling on the chains Tids walked Tamerah like an animal, through the crowd, his lips parted in a large smirk showing rotting teeth – and still she stared off letting the tug of her wrists lead the way.

Small whispers started here and there, gossip ‘doesn’t she look like…?’ ‘I swear I have seen her before somewhere…’ ‘how did HE get a replica of Damien’s doll?’ Few of the dolls that witnessed Tamerah’s appearance winced as she walked past, some let their eyes fall to the floor not wishing to gawk, attempting to be respectful.

“The doll be fer sale iffen any of ya wish ta be buyin! Used – but never abused, she be comin’ at a good price! That I can be guaranteein’ ya!” He stomped along calling out in a low voice to those who commented on her.

The fine silks that surrounded her, the dresses of aged lace, the tulle, the perfect hair, the perfect features, the beauty – it all spun around and around, so fast, so much of it – and all she could do was hate Tids further.

How dare he bring her here in this condition!

He did not even supply a corset nor a bra, so those perfect breasts bounced with embarrassment with each step beneath the near see-through material that hung from her body like a dirty sheet. No shoes – No panties – no bath – no comb for her hair – nothing. Nothing but the filth of her time spent in the slums.

How many other dolls had been through this? How many dolls were treated this way before her? And why did THEIR race deserve this? Why would no one stop it, why would no one do something?

No they did nothing – not the dolls – not the humans.

They all just whispered at her dirty fucking secret.

They all just watched.

They turned their eyes and shut their mouths.

They were no better than Tids – No better than the men that raped her.

Damien swung open the double doors to the ballroom, and he could feel the eyes of the rich and famous on him, while the camera flashed behind him. He and his entourage were, if only for a split second, center stage. Then, almost as quickly, everyone continued what they were doing. After all, Damien knew the names of everyone there with deep pockets. Over two thirds of them were clients of his, and he made it a point to know his clients. He glanced over the party in progress and smiled wide, his eyes darting over the large selection of 'dolls' for sale and auction. None of them seemed to jump out at him, but he knew what types the Heartland Industries would wheel out to this event. Damien had no use for synthetics with such limited functionality. With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved a glass of champagne and signaled his men to disperse into the party. They had their orders, after all.

Damien greeted a few of his clients, smiling and shaking hands. He mused over the small talk, answered vaguely when asked why he wasn't running for Congress. Basic interaction. His mind was clearly elsewhere, but he always had time to accept a cigar and light from his clients. After they passed on to the next group, one of his men approached him.
"Sir, we have her location," he announced.
"Good, I will be there shortly," he sighed.
"Understood," he said. Damien's man returned to the crowd. He let out a sigh, and downed the rest of his champagne in one shot. He absentmindedly placed his empty glass on a waiter's tray as the waiter passed by. The room became more lively as hipper dance music started up, but Damien didn't have a dance partner this evening. Normally at these events, he would be dancing with Tamerah. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was reminded of her. No, he couldn't be distracted tonight. This night was much too important. He followed his man over to a red couch in the distance.
"Oh my," Damien said, "You're here on the couch instead of dancing at your party?" He smiled at Olive, his tuxedo gleaming in the ballroom light.
He continued, "Not that I blame you. I get so sick of these parties, sometimes. The people are too self absorbed, too careless. There's me calling the kettle black, I'm sorry. I'm Damien Jackson."
Damien held out his hand as a form of greeting to her, unsure of whether or not she would shake it. His eyes met hers, and his starling blue orbs seemed to spark alive, almost as if they were looking into her soul with their intensity. A smirk crawled across his lips.
"Hey, listen. My friends are here, and they seem to be waving me over," he motioned towards his entourage, who were desperately trying to get his attention across the room.
"Here, I have a gift for you," he reached deep into his tuxedo, and pulled out a sealed envelope. After handing it to her, he politely excused himself and headed towards his men.
"Could you guys be any more rude?" He glared at them. One of his men pointed into the crowd. Damien followed his finger with his gaze, and where it landed caused his heart to skip a few beats. Time stood still as his gaze met a disheveled synthetic with matted hair and cheap makeup. There was a weasel of a man beside her, dancing around like a lunatic. It looked like the two were here on accident, or perhaps sneaked their way in.
Damien's legs moved on their own, and he even stepped between a dancing couple as he walked across the dance floor in his daze. They shouted angrily at him, but he didn't care. The crowd separated around him, mostly out of fear, and before long, he and the synthetic he approached were completely encircled. Even the weasel man shrank back. All sense of doubt left Damien's mind, in the moment where time stood still.
"Excuse me," he said, "Would you care to dance?" He held out his hand to her.

Emma laughed at the adorable girly boy. He looked all around him, as if trying to see who she could possibly be talking to. Once he realized it was him, he looked as though she had pulled a fish from her clutch and slapped him with it. She couldn't help but giggle at his flustered blush. "Seeing as I don't have an owner," he finally managed to say, "I don't think that my owner will mind." So he didn't have an owner. How odd! Then, what was he doing here? The answer weighed her heart down ever so slightly. He was being sold here tonight... Even still, his smile never faded as he took her hand. "I'm Adina, by the way," he added, after an awkward pause. Maybe he was slow? Or perhaps his programming was a little off. Either way, he was adorable, and she decided that she liked him.

She liked the way he wore a dress like a girl, and seemed to maul over the meaning of life before answering anything she asked. "And you are?" Emma grinned, debating on saying something snarky for a moment, then quickly dismissing it. He might not understand. "Call me Emma," she replied as she gently pulled him onto the dance floor, weaving through bodies until she could see Xander from the corner of her eye. He looked miserable still, and she felt a little twist of guilt in her stomach for abandoning him. Still, surely he would be alright. He was grown, after all. She turned her attention back to the boy in a dress, Adina, he had said. "You're beautiful," she said with a smile, dancing closely with him to the lively music in the room. He looked so much like a woman, it was hard to remember he was male... and for some reason it made her all the more attracted to him.

Maybe it was just in her nature to be attracted to anyone, she mused. After all, Xander was godly in her eyes, and his sister was completely stunning. Perhaps it was in her programming to love anyone that was nice to her, or who had a pretty face. She pushed the thought aside as Adina swept her around the room in time to the music. "I'm sure you will go to a wonderful owner tonight, so you shouldn't worry about that," she said randomly after a spin out and then back into his chest. "You're so lovely, anyone who wouldn't take you is a fool," she stated matter-of-factly. It was true, mostly, she thought, though truly she knew that he would be a hard doll to sell. Not quite male, not quite female. It would take a special sort of buyer with a specific kink to want him. The thought made her sad. He was such a lovely man, and a charming dancer.

She had completely lost herself in her thoughts, and was only brought back when another doll, a female, bumped into her. "Watch it!" The other doll hissed, glaring at Emma. With a click, her fangs were in place, and Emma let out a hiss of her own, only hers was much more threatening. The dark haired offender looked shocked and let out a little squeak, while her owner just laughed. "Quite the viper you have, Xander Harrowgrove," the male owner called, laughing off his own doll's embarrassed whimpers. Emma smirked to herself, turning a grin over to Adina, giving him a wink as her fangs clicked back into hiding. "Don't you just love parties? That's my owner over there, Xander Harrowgrove. Isn't he handsome? Would you like to meet him? We would be saving him from his date, come. Let's go see him!" She felt as though she were a school girl, tugging around her favorite toy. The thought made her smile even more as she pranced through the crowd with the beautiful Adina in tow.

"Excuse us, Xander, but, I'd love for you to meet someone. This is Adina. Isn't he lovely? He's for sell tonight." The information flowed from the tip of her tongue like water from a faucet, so cool and easy. She was just about to say something else about the doll at her side when her eye caught sight of something bright red in the crowd. She shifted to look closer at what had flashed by and caught her attention, and what she saw made her stomach turn over. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on Adina's hand, taking a step back and closer to him. "Oh my god," she breathed, eyes wide and staring in shock at the condition of the doll being pulled through the crowd of beautiful dresses of silk. The doll's own clothes were nearly completely see-through and made her feel exposed and embarrassed for the girl.

"Xander, do something," she pleaded, turning her worried gaze to her owner. Blood tears brimmed in her eyes instantly, threatening to spill over and ruin the makeup she had carefully applied before coming to the ball. How could anyone be so cruel to such a lovely doll? She didn't take her eyes off her owner, begging him to stop the cruelty he was not used to seeing. Meanwhile, she failed to notice that she had yet to turn loose of Adina's hand. She was practically clinging to his arm for safety. Everyone still laughed and danced around them, the music continued to play, and yet for Emma; the whole room had froze and only the poor doll that was being humiliated and tormented moved. Her heart ached, unable to do anything. No one would listen to a doll, but maybe... maybe her owner could stop it. He was the son of a powerful man of influence, after all. Emma watched him, her crimson tears about to flow over her eyelids and stain her lovely pale cheeks.

Xander Harrowgrove

Xander stared back at Emma; and Emma started back at Xander. To the human male, the whole room seemed to fall into stilled silence as he stared into those eyes, those eyes that were brimming with rivers of ruby blood. How can something so pure-hearted be compared to a vampire? He thought, but then quickly turned his head to watch the other doll, the oddly recognisable doll, the one that had entered the room just now, shackled like an animal! Disgusting. Who could be able to do that to a sentimental doll, a doll with feelings, a doll who looked so much like a human? Who could do that to a person? Disgusting.

Of course Xander was going to do something, though he doubted that he would have if Emma hadn't been there... Part of him knew that it was because he wanted to impress her, wanted her to stop clinging to that complete stranger she was hooked onto; the other part of him could barely stomach the situation before him, so much so that he had to do something to stop the humiliation that red-haired woman was going through, that pain... He clenched his jaw.

There were several ways to go about this, he knew, as his mathematical mind-set clicked systematically into place: firstly, he could buy the doll - money was not an option - and then put the Harrowgrove Task Force into good use by burning this man and his 'business' to the ground; secondly, he could have the Heartland Forces present nearby dispatched to remove this lunatic from the ball, and then have them take this doll into their safety... Suddenly he realised why he recognised the doll. How foolish of him! Of course! Wasn't that Damien's doll? That man had caused quite a stir in New York; who wouldn't recognise his most cherished possession? Tamerah, that was her name. Yet somehow nobody was doing anything to save her. Cowards.

Across the room, his father was watching him, knowing what he was about to do, which only spurred him on more.

Beside him his date, Clarissa, whispered and gripped his hand further: "Oh how embarrassing... I hope somebody takes her away quickly; she's ruining the evening, don't you think?" It occurred to Xander that he really, really disliked this woman, and dropped her hand without effort, turning to look at Emma one last time before acting out-

That was until another familiar figure swooped into the fray, offering the abused doll his hand. Damien.

"It appears that she is in good hands..." Xander muttered, "For now..."

His eyes met Emma's once again and they were back to the start: staring at each other in silence.

Isaac

The woman reached over and put a hand on his back. Not a guiding touch, not a instructional touch, but a comforting touch. His first from a human. She spoke gently. Not perfect. But wasn't he supposed to be perfect? Dolls were meant to be nothing less than perfect because there were programmed that way. But she seemed okay with his not being perfect, and Isaac found himself relieved by that. he hadn't even realized how much stress he'd built up worrying about that. Her hand moved, rubbing his back, and he closed his eyes for a second. He turned and looked at her as she spoke again. Too many pieces and not enough. It was strange to think of it that way, but it worked. He straightened slightly, taking her hand again as she offered it. The faintest of quirks in the corner of his mouth denoted a smile as he stood, straightening his jacket with his free hand. She continued speaking as he straightened his appearance. He chewed on the inside of his lip, coping with his delight. To be wanted. He hadn't realized what a lovely feeling it would be. Perhaps it was in his programming, perhaps it was something else, it didn't matter right now. He could be happy for a little while.

Mel must have been sitting outside, waiting, because a few seconds after Olive's last words she reentered the room, a genial smile on her face. She announced that the Ball was beginning, staring at Issac. He dipped his head slightly in thanks, and she blinked at him. Olive then tugged him along, a measure of playfulness in her action. "Not if I make a fool of you first!" He responded, following after her and allowing his mood to lighten. The heavy moment was over. A new chapter had begun, a mere three days since his birth.

The people were overwhelming. Isaac had never seen so many people, dolls and humans alike, in one place. He could barely comprehend it. It was a good thing he had to sit and wait for Olive to finish making some sort of speech about a plethora of cancer related things, otherwise he would have never been able to gather his bearing and wits in this place. She had a grin on her face, she seemed to be enjoying herself, as she returned. He rose, taking her arm, and she tugged him into the massive throng of people. He'd just opened his mouth to respond to her comment when she froze, her fingers tightening around his. He froze as well, concern on his face as he looked at her. There was an expression of pain on her features. He didn't know what to do in this situation. But she seemed to recover, holding on to his shoulder with her other hand as if to steady herself. He put an arm around her waist, just in case she was about to fall. He received a wobbly smile and a sigh, along with a request for a drink. Then she started off towards the chairs off on the wall. He gave her a troubled look as she pulled away, but he let her go. She offered a brave smile that he didn't quite believe, before moving a bit tentatively towards the seats. He stood and made sure she'd sat down before heading off to search for the drinks.

Once he retrieved the water, nothing for himself, though she'd said he could get something, he began to make his way back towards Olive. Ah, there she was. He moved in between the people, cutting through a group in an attempt to make a shortcut, to little avail. As he neared, a man approached Olive, and appeared to talk to her for a few moments before handing her something and walking away.

"Who was that?" He asked as he finally managed to return to her side, holding the water out to er and staring after the guy. It appeared that he'd given her a letter, or at the very least something in an envelope. As he disappeared into the crowd he turned his eyes to her, traces of worry in his eyes. "Are you alright? Do you need anything else?"

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we can do more than just make fun of them.” Ivy responded, and Garret found himself smiling at the return of her smile. At the very least, he was confident that he had helped her to feel at least a little less glum about the issue. After a short few seconds, she was up again, and sitting on the floor next to him, continuing on about how they would both have to find something, since she didn't have a dress either. She didn't seem worried about it at all, and after all, they were already late, Garret was almost positive about that, and it wouldn't matter so much if they rushed at this point. At the very least, it seemed she had a place in mind to go to, and she began digging her way underneath her bed to get at stuff.

How peculiar the girl looked, her body half-underneath the bed and seeming as if she were possibly about to go further. Soon enough, however, she was retreating from underneath the bed with a good-sized box. He got the reason for going under there now, but it still wasn't yet clicking in his mind what she wanted the box for. Did she have clothes in there or something? That didn't make sense. So what did she need it for? He was tempted to open up his mouth and ask, but simply found himself staring at her while she moved, observing her actions as if they were the most important thing on the planet.

Before he knew it, she was pulling a festive hat from the box and putting it on top of his head. Garret did nothing to protest, but was rather surprised by the action, and found himself trying to stare upwards at the rim of the colorful Mardi Gras hat that the blue haired girl had suddenly bestowed upon his head. When he looked back at her, she seemed on the brink of laughter, and surely, Garret was probably a big sight to behold, especially with his own clothes as mismatched and attention-grabbing as well. The addition of the hat probably almost suited the outfit.

“You look wonderful.” She uttered, a big grin on her face before turning back to dig through the box for whatever it what she had been looking for, pulling out little things here and there of this and that. It was beginning to dawn on Garret that the box was full of keepsakes, the kind of thing you just didn't throw out, but you didn't always have a use for. Garret used to hoard all kinds of stuff with his original owner, but now he had almost nothing. "Guess we need to go shopping,” She said, looking back at Garret. Now, she held a little business card, which had probably been the target for her search in the first place.

“You can keep that if you want.” She said suddenly, addressing the hat upon his head. “If you don’t that’s fine too.”

He pulled it off his head, bringing into his range of sight and tilting it around in his hands, a smile wide across his face. How nice of her. She really wanted to think of him as a human, didn't she? But after all, even if she 'gave' it to him, in the long run, it was still hers. Everything he had was hers, because he was hers. He didn't own anything.

"Thanks!" He replied, probably sounding a bit too enthusiastic about getting a funny, festive hat. "I think I'll put it on one of my walls," he continued, before catching himself, biting his lip and looking back at her with an almost apologetic look. "I mean, as long as that's okay, of course..." His voice trailed off, but before he knew it, it seemed the topic could be readdressed later. She was putting things back and disappearing underneath the bed once more.

He tilted his head suddenly though, as Ivy's little black cat suddenly came into the room. The cat purred and headed towards him, and immediately tensed, unsure what to do about the approach of the animal. Surely he couldn't shoo it, that would be mean, and Ivy would get mad. Surely he should go along with what the animal wanted, since, more than likely, that cat had more rights than he did. It also had seniority over him in the house, after all. But... still, he wasn't quite so sure what he should do. He'd never been around any before, and wasn't even sure if the animal was going to like him.

Sure enough though, the animal came rubbing up against him as it passed by, sitting down on the floor and watching Ivy as she made her way to shuffle out from under the bed. A sound from the cat made her turn her head too quickly though, and Garret found himself flinching at the sound of her head's impact with the bottom of the bed. When she'd finally managed to shuffle back out from under the bed, the cat was suddenly staring back at Garret, and Garret tensed again, watching it cautiously as it padded over and decided to curl up in his folded lap. Blinking a few times, he placed the hat over to the side of him, and hesitantly moved a hand down to stroke the animal's dark fur.

“D’aww, he likes you.” Ivy commented, grinning at the scene. She leaned over and pet the now purring cat before plopping back down on the the ground and sprawling out, even yawning from her tiredness. Or perhaps it was boredom, Garret couldn't be sure.

"Real Garret was allergic to animals," He responded, thought the words came out in a sort of mutter. He found himself relaxing a little more with the animal now, but half of 'real Garret's' family had been allergic to animals, and as a result, he'd never really come in contact with them, less his caretakers break into fits of sneezing and hives. He'd taken some pictures of them, but that had been it.

Before he knew it, though, Ivy was up again, offering Garret a small smile alongside that inevitable statement. “I guess we should go get what we need for the ball.”

He nodded, gently lifting the little cat off of his lap before standing, and waiting for Ivy to stand with him. He bent and picked up the Mardi Gras hat, and noticed his bare feet.

"I'll be right back, I just have to grab my shoes and put this away," He responded, giving her a wide smile before scampering off. He tossed the hat on the dresser before grabbing his shoes and pulling them on his feet without bothering to tie them. He was in too much of a hurry to bother with them, although his sense of hurry was obviously unnecessary. Plus, he figured he could easily just tie them on the way if they started bothering him. It would be fine. When he was done, he quickly traveled back over to Ivy's room, standing just beyond the doorway rather than going inside, and simply waiting for her to come out and lead him along.

Olive was just recovering from her episode when a tall, handsome man walked up to her. "Oh my," the stranger purred, "You're here on the couch instead of dancing at your party?" He smiled at her, and she had to admit that he looked breathtaking. Was he a doll? Surely God stopped making men this gorgeous once he taught humans to do it. "Not that I blame you," he was saying, "I get so sick of these parties, sometimes. The people are too self absorbed, too careless. There's me calling the kettle black, I'm sorry. I'm Damien Jackson." Olive let a smile toy with her lips, only briefly. "Then you already know who I am, just as you know this party wasn't for me. It was for their," she paused to gesture at the ballroom full of beautiful dolls and rich owners, "benefit." He seemed amused, and casually shifted his weight as he began to speak again, this time offering his hand out to hers.

Without hesitating, Olive reached out and gave him a firm handshake. Even though she was seated, and he was standing, she still felt as though she were in control of the conversation. A smirk slowly pulled his features into an even more handsome taunt. Something about him was so dominate, so in control, just being around him made her feel more powerful. More in control, of herself if nothing else. As she stared up into his dazzling blue hues, she couldn't help but wonder just who this handsome stranger was. She was just about to tell him that he better hurry off before she turned into a pumpkin when he broke the pregnant pause of silence. "Hey, listen. My friends are here, and they seem to be waving me over," he motioned towards a large group of people, who seemed to be desperately trying to catch his eye from across the floor. "Better not keep them waiting, then," she responded coolly, with a small smirk of her own.

"Here, I have a gift for you," he announced as he reached into his tuxedo, and pulled out a sealed envelope. She felt her brows knit together as she took the offering and when she went to look up to him, to ask what it was; he was already striding across the room. Everyone's eyes seemed to follow him as he went, as if he had a magnetic pull about him. Perhaps he did. Olive's thoughts were pulled from him as her doll returned, looking concerned and confused as he held out the glass of ice water. "Who was that?" Olive smiled a little as Isaac looked after the man who had walked away, just as she had. When he turned his gaze back to her, there was something different in his handsome gaze. Worry, perhaps? Yes. She knew that look well, and sure enough within seconds he asked; "Are you alright? Do you need anything else?" " I'm alright, thank you, Isaac. As to who that man was, his name is Damien. Damien Jackson, and I have no idea who he is. He was certainly handsome, though," she replied quietly, almost muttering the last half. She gingerly opened the envelope and peered inside, finding a letter with elegant hand writing.

It was from him, but there was no surprise there. It asked her to meet him later, privately for a chat. She frowned slightly and handed the letter over to Isaac. "He wants to meet with me later. If he thinks I'll be doing so without you, he's certainly mistaken. My mother taught me never to take candy from strangers." She smiled over at Isaac, hoping he would catch the joke but as always he seemed stone faced. " Do you recognize anyone here, Isaac? Anyone famous, or perhaps, a doll you might know? I'm not familiar with the workings of Heartland, so, you'll have to humor me." She smiled up at him and gently pat the seat next to her, signalling for him to join her. "Your life with me will not be this glamorous," she said quietly to him, almost sadly. "I hope that will be alright... Though, I must say, you look wonderful all dressed up," she cooed affectionately, reaching over to tenderly fix his suit.

Meora Harrowgrove:

Once Meora had lost her father in the complex and wildly spinning carousel of ball-gowns, clattering glasses and fluttering bubbles of small talk, she found herself lost in what she had been born to do: charming expensively clad businessmen into supporting her father and weaving sweet, innocent words of manipulation into the air between them. This expertise of hers allowed her mind to drift from the haunting shadows of home; it finally permitted her to wallow in something that she was simply good at, in the warm waters of security - a place where she had the upper hand, where Soeri could not defeat her.

As she drifted away from her current circle of entranced partygoers, Meora noticed the tousled, golden-brown hair of a certain recognisable figure nearby - Daniel Clement, wasn't it? Of course, it was inexcusably rude not to talk to such a familiar face - well, that was what she told herself anyway; in fact, she was uncertain that her compulsion to talk to him was more closely associated with the face that he was a very attractive man, (and she was an excitable teenage girl), or that talking to him would help her father in whatever way possible. Yes, it was most likely the first option... Plus, what could go wrong from talking to a man she had never met before? Okay, many things, but that was beside the point.

Obviously eager, Meora swished through the crowd, towards her 'target', with a delicate smile curled on her face, until she cleared her throat, only to find the man twisting around, a doll resting on his arms. That was exactly what could go wrong. A doll. Fantastic. Now she could feel herself turning into ice, freezing, breathing cold, choked air at the back of her throat, which had suddenly felt as though a noose had been tightened around her neck. Of all the things she could rely on, her nervousness around other - she found herself sick at the word - dolls was what she hated most! Unknowingly, Meora found her fingers fumbling at the heavy diamond necklace that concealed the Heartland Industry emblem adorning her neck.

It was far too late to escape such an awkward situation now, so she cleared her throat, forging a deceptively gentle smile onto her lips, "Hello, you are Daniel Clement, are you not? I have heard a lot about you."

Daniel Clemment

Daniel was in between people when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. It sounded like a woman, he guessed as he turned, and was greeted with the sight of none other than the lovely Miss Harrowgrove. He smiled at her and pretended not to notice the single second in which she froze, staring at him, before falling back into motion, toying with her necklace. She was dressed well, in fluid silver, and he offered her a laid-back grin. "Indeed I am." He responded. Her hesitation was now replaced with a soft smile, but he couldn't help the curiosity pricking at him. What had caused that second of pause? Erik hung onto him, watching the guest over Daniel's shoulder warily, so he squeezed his doll's hand, reassuring him.

"And you must be the lovely Miss Harrowgrove." He took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a second. "You're even more beautiful in person." He said pleasantly, studying her face. He'd have to swallow his curiosity though, it was rude to seem so prying. And he certainly didn't want to scare anyone off, especially not this young doe. She seemed interesting. And he knew quiet well that she could wrap men around her finger, and that her father used it to his advantage. He was very good at getting himself out of such situations, most people didn't realize just how perceptive he was, even if he seemed at times like an utter airhead. But that didn't mean that he couldn't be as apparently buoyant as ever while mentally keeping his guard up.

"You'll have to excuse Erik, he's a bit skittish." He said after a moment as Erik shifted on his feet, still hanging onto Daniel. He reached up absently and patted the Doll's face. Erik offered a small, hesitant smile at the girl. He was actually playing the shyness up a bit, he'd received a number of complements about how cute and sweet he seemed, and Daniel didn't seem particularly bothered by his clinging. So he settled down to spend most of his attention watching the floor and hanging onto his master, only sending the occasional glance up at the girl through his dark hair.

Daniel took a moment to scan the party before turning his attention fully to the young Harrowgrove. "How are you enjoying the party so far? Heartland has certainly done a good job this year." He commented, effecting some small talk. he was still watching her to see if she would freeze up again, and was wondering just what had triggered it, even though he was trying his best not to think of such things.

It was at that moment that he noticed some mild commotion across the floor, in which a ratty looking young woman with red hair was being tugged along by an equally ratty looking man, who didn't seem to be of any good sort. Everyone in the vicinity of the woman seemed to be turning to look at her, many with open mouths. And then he spotted a singular Mister Jackson, one of those people everyone knew, if even for the wrong reasons, who apparently intervened. Then he recognized the red-head girl as said infamous Lord's doll. Ah, that made more sense. He tipped his head to one side, finished observing the scene, and cocked a half smile at his conversation partner. "Well, I hope that story has a happy ending. " He said softly, almost as if to himself. "There's nothing better than a good happy ending." He'd ultimately had what people called a happy ending, what with being saved from his unpleasant youth and saddled with a lovely little wealth. Though nothing had actually ended yet, he supposed he could be happy with what he had. Sort of.

"Sir?" Erik murmured in his ear, jerking Daniel from his thoughts. He jumped back to the present moment, reinstating a rakkish little smile and changing his champagne glass into his other hand so he could take his third sip of the night. "Hopefully that's the most excitement we'll have for the night, eh?" He said with a small laugh.