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Snippet #1935588

located in Terota, a part of The Dollmaster's Key, one of the many universes on RPG.


Terota - A simple village in the north, with no firm political standing or economic benefits.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Orchid Ross
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In dealing with humans over the past many decades, Dove had seen for herself that humans seemed to absorb the emotions of others like an illness. One blustering, angry soul could inspire a whole room of them to anger; one giggling fool could spread his smile through a crowded taproom. Dove was often thankful that Dolls did not behave just this way, however, as more porcelain bodies entered the blackened shop, the child Doll had some inkling of the panic being swapped around. Thankfully, she could refuse to take part.

The watch face in her hand ticked steadily within fetchingly tarnished silver. The hands, thin black twists of delicate metal, jerked with a clean neatness that always gave the little lamb pleasure as she watched them. Upon the round face the hours of the day were inscribed. It had only been an hour and twenty-six minutes since her arrival in Terota, and already things were going so utterly awry. Ah, well. At the bottom of the face lay a semi-circular cutaway, beneath which turned a disk with a bright day and starry night painted upon it. Of course, it being late morning, only the blue sky and gilt sun were visible. There was a quiet click as the watch closed like a clamshell in her palm.

With the air of a sleepy grandmother watching a child play before a warming hearth, Dove gazed upon Raine as she moved towards the apocryphal note and symbol. Her snowy lashes blinked with a soft click of her lids as she watched a shattered piece of spun glass carve across the other Doll's pale, flawless arm. She supposed she'd be alright. Porcelain of that making was rather resilient. As the questions mounted, that curly head turned towards the door. For a moment, Dove let the voices bounce off of her ears as if she had not heard them, taking time instead to glance over the fearful creatures that had entered. Immediately she saw Jaina as sad and lost, for clearly she had little respect for the perfection it was to be a Doll if she dressed so scandalously. Truly it was always a sorry sight to come upon a Doll that tried so hard to emulate the licentious flaws of a human. Perhaps she could not help it.. perhaps these Jointless dolls felt urged to do so, in looking so much like them. It would be finer, of course, to use the nearness in appearance to make an example out of oneself; to be better, purer, more lovely in every way. But Dove just smiled softly, and snapped her eyes a degree to the left, appreciating the softer look of the plaintive blonde.

“Do any of you know where the key-keeper went or why this store is in ruins?”

Dove's voice fell from her, as velvety as her coat, and twice as dry. It was the neuter voice of a child, with a strange timbre to it. Perhaps the depth just came with age, for after all, this Jointed doll was very old, and human rules did not apply. "If I knew, dear, I would not be here."

But soon after, Raine returned to the center of the room as if it was her place, and Dove did not interrupt. She also did not appear to pay full attention, for while the raven-haired Doll spoke, she gratingly released her locket, which rattled as it settled to her belly, clacking once against one of the neat jet buttons on her well-tailored habit. Jointed fingers crawled into that pocket, and withdrew the damp bit of soft, fibrous paper, and she eyed it once again. There was plenty of time to think while this bitter little angel in a white dress established herself over the other two. There was an acidic ring to that slow and otherwise charming voice that made Dove smile in the strangest way. Considering that the doll of questionable morals and the one with the floral dress did not seem quite capable of making decisions for themselves very well, the lamb only bowed mildly to them in a curt obeisance before turning to Raine at the end of her little tirade and stepping a bit closer on her curvy little legs, her chopines tapping hollowly on the marred floor.

In her hand she held the scarlet fragment, and her upturned face was naturally sweet and harmless. For Raine's golden eyes, Dove had turned it so the "Look here, sweetling- ah, do not touch it, for your dress and skin are so fine- ...Don't you think, perhaps, Sagen may be of some interest?" She did not further explain that this appeared to be some sort of map; whether of a physical location or a causal flow, she was not sure. Furthermore, she much preferred silence, and was used to speaking mostly when asked. Where she more loquacious, she may have pointed out the arrow and what appeared to be the washed-out, truncated name of this Town, but the taller doll seemed smart enough, or at least should be, if she found it her place to be so cruel.