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Dove Oneira

"Time rules flesh, and that causes impetuosity, short-sidedness, and greed. Be still, and know good."

0 · 331 views · located in Terota

a character in “The Dollmaster's Key”, as played by BurgundyMStone


Dove Oneira

Apparent Age:

Physical Description
Sweet Dove is, outwardly, a simple, Jointed doll. She is certainly not the first, and she is certainly not the last, though she was made well before the dolls began to assume a form so identical to the humans. Being crafted as a child, she is diminutive in stature, and soft of feature. Instead of long, wispy limbs, her own are more supple and rounded in shape, though she is just as solid as any other doll. Standing at just four and a half feet, she is clearly a child. Her 'skin' is a rich, cocoa-pink hue, blushed with tones of apricot at all of her most delicate points; her ears, her cheeks, the tips of her small fingers and such. She has round cheeks and thick, short brows. The pert bow of her lips is deepened in color, that of a blood-orange, and lightly glossed. Though her bodily silhouette is petite, it is topped by a fleecy mane of grey ringlets and kinks pulled neatly back from her hairline to cascade over her narrow shoulders and pour heavily down to her waist (twice as voluminous as pictured, mind you). Her eyes are somnolescent and heavy-lidded, snowy lashes hooding over them. Her irises are made of vitrail glass that reflect a wild spectrum of dazzling color at all times, the striations of an iris replicated by the facets cut into the glass. Her raiment is simple- a long empire waist gown of warm grey that falls down to her feet, but is never allowed to drag upon the ground or be soiled, for she wears unadorned wooden chopines that make her look a touch taller than she is. Simple straps cross the blade of her foot and cradle her heel, tying neatly without flourish or clasp. Her arms are covered by a dark velvet bolero with three-quarter sleeves and a high, embellished collar. Being of a later generation, Dove's joints are not so cumbersome or bulbous as others, and the intelligent design of their edges allows for smoother, less confined articulation. Though there is a glide to her motions, she does move slowly, seeming to put much care and intent to her every movement. Of course, this is just her being graceful about what others could see as her 'limitations'. Her hard porcelain structure is covered by a tight, nearly seamless layer of thin, soft chamois. If one were to look closely, it is possible to see a well-hidden seam along the insides of her limbs, where the leather meets flush. The softness lends her touch a reassuring quality, a trait she has often used to her advantage; this is counterbalanced by the fact that no matter how 'smooth' her locomotion can be if she concentrates, her weight does not move 'naturally', giving her a faint marionette-like effect.

Being that she at times works on behalf of the Temples, there are times that she wears a frock over her dress. It reaches mid-thigh, falling lower in the back than the front. The 'pleats' are sections shaped like elongated lotus petals; pale grey at the top deepens to soot and eventually black. Even in full garb, a section of her sternum and a slip of her smooth back lay bare. Hidden beneath her hair is her keyhole, placed at the meet of neck and shoulders.

Likewise, there are times where she may be seen in a high-collared black coat with tails and brass buttons, a pair of black, unruffled knickers, grey hose, and slippers. Dove does not mind people considering these 'boys' clothes, for surely androgyny is its own perfection, unmarred by the determinism of sex.

Key Description
A heavy thing of wrought iron, stolid, simple, and yet pleasingly embellished. The shaft twists in a spiral, the bow looping with heavy scrollwork. The blade itself is a labyrinth in miniature, the separate angles and cuts so many in number that it gives the appearance of being lacy and fragile.


Dove would never admit it, seeking to appear humble, but she sees herself as benevolent. Her attitude is one of kindness, though her propensity for non-action may often leave her seeming a little cold. While one could assume this is just an unavoidable fact of 'life' for some dolls, the truth is that she rather enjoys her stoic, aloof ways, and sees her detachment as a sign of emotional superiority to other dolls and especially humans. Considering that she feels her way is best, and that others just don't know any better, she often sweetly seeks to persuade others to aspire to better behaviors, whether that is being more altruistic, less quick to ire, or more giving. Using herself as an example nearly always, these acts, though useful, are fueled by self-righteousness. Her mien is one of eternal calm, yet something lurks beneath. Her attitude of placidity is sometimes a point of contention with others; when a situation calls for higher levels of emotion, Dove is one to gently chastise others for their vitriol, and beg them to think more than act. She all but refuses to take part in being upset; even if she met a child who had just witnessed the death of a pet, she would simply smile and assure them that surely such a tiny moment in their lives is not worth all of those tears. Perhaps she does not like to see people cry because she cannot... Her voice is deeper than one would expect for a child or a female, specifically, but it has a soft timbre to it and a feathery, feminine intonation. She tends to say only what is germane, and as such, the fact that her facilities of speech are limited by her being is less obvious, because she says so little at a time in the first place. The long pauses are seen as thoughtful, the careful pacing seen as tranquil.

She enjoys assisting others, especially those who are fractured, ill or despondent. It is in these times that she best sees fit to put to use her philosophies on thought and emotion. Though she is not human herself, and does not aspire to be, she has spent some time considering (and judging) those of the flesh, and has come to the conclusion that they are like hapless children, acting foolishly and harming themselves for most of them are not capable of knowing better, especially given that their lives are so fleeting. But, like an inspiring den mother, Dove does not see the temporary nature of man as an excuse for his actions, but rather one more reason that all humans should be more thoughtful, consider the future more, pause and reflect rather than do... in short, be more like a Doll. She personally does not like that the newer Dolls are Jointless, seeing them as a replication of an already flawed being. However, she concedes that she does not possess the Dollmaker's infinite wisdom, and perhaps a jointless doll is a more proper form of being than one filled with blood and waste.

Over her lifespan, Dove has studied many ancient texts, and is a master of theologies, even though they have little to do with the Immortal Dolls. The truth of the matter is that deep down, she is obsessively curious about death and impermanence, going so far as to assist an undertaker for some years, quietly thrilled with the horrid sights of dessicated bodies. It was not so awful as you or I might think, for after all, there was no smell to bother her, and no stomach to upset.

Similarly, she has worked as a governess to many children, infatuated by their newness and growth, though the fascination wears off after they reach a certain age, and become bitter or selfish.

Dove is reserved; loving, but not exactly what one would call 'sweet'. In fact, most of her affections are limited to the use of diminutives and endearments in her speech, and the still, light touches she might apply to one's face, arm, or hand. She herself does not particularly like or dislike being touched, but responds most to being called 'Love' or 'Lamb'.

It is worth noting that they who think they know everything are the most hurt when they realize they know nothing at all. Dove's mental stance is quite rigid, and that makes it deceptively fragile. Considering Dove's strange, morbid curiosity surrounding death, suffering, and the emotional pitfalls of humanity, she is sometimes spurred to see these things come about....

Reciting more than seventy written works, be they parables, prayers or poems.
Caring for and teaching children up to adolescence.
Minor repairs of leather, clay and porcelain. She finds wood less forgiving.

Being and dressing in a respectable, pious manner.
Clocks (a bit of an obsession)
Time alone
Death and birth

Teenaged children
Dolls who act too much like humans
Gaudy clothing
Extensive jewelry

That Humans indeed have a fuller experience of life because they die
Having her worldview shaken apart

When awakened at the gates of a small town outside of Sagen, she first ran into a priest. Being a child dressed in knickers and a white velvet waistcoat, her gender was not apparent (as many children, male and female in that area, wore long hair), and she was addressed and clothed as male. She made a fine altar boy, and was doted on for her quiet nature, though she was somewhat of an accessory and diversion, a thing of beauty more than a person. No matter. She absorbed theologies and attitudes on the pitfalls of mankind like a sponge, and so it was within the marble pillars and checkered floors of the church that her outlook was first firmed.

Not being bodily gendered herself, she did not refute or address being seen as male and never saw any reason to correct them. In truth, to this day, she will answer to male and female terms without batting a lash, and has settled as female because most people refer to her that way. Deep down, she is curious as to which gender the Dollmaker intended her to be, but because the lack of such knowledge has not made much of a difference in her life, she is not too terribly concerned with an answer. She has always found her place helping others, yet her service is never pure servitude, and she retained a lofty demeanor.

How many days did they have left when they went for the winding?

Dove carries with her a very long string of three-hundred and sixty-four howlite beads. There is no clasp, but an old silver pocketwatch pendulates at one end, the sterling grown dark with patina over time. Every ninety-one beads, there is a thin black clock hand, sharp yet beautiful and frail. The clock within this mala of sorts dictates seconds, minutes, hours and days, with a slowly rotating image of the sun and moon in the lower middle.

So begins...

Dove Oneira's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Devon Anderson - Von Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Viyo Marie Character Portrait: Rey Sargs
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Day 0, Hour 0, Minute 23

Perhaps it was simply the evening approached, but the charming buildings of Terota that day seemed... just a little sad. There was something lingering in the air, something unsettling, and it made all the citizens of the small town ill at ease. Within this town, a crossroads for several major settlements, was the beginning of a strange journey for several stranger individuals.

This is where our story begins.

Of different cities, different lives, the characters of this tale gathered for one reason alone - to continue to live. However, it was obvious at first glance that this would not be fulfilled. It had always been a quaint little thing, as most key-keeper shops are. However, that day, it was different. The dolls gathered could barely recognize the tired, dilapidated building. The windows, once inviting, had been boarded shut, so hastily that the nails hung ajar. The door had been locked at first, but one reckless individual had broken it down.

The inside was worse. Far worse.

There was scarcely a centimeter that remained untouched - the ground was littered with debris and the walls scorched and torn. With every step, glass or ash was crushed into the floorboards underfoot. The scraps of the paper once draped on the walls were scattered, burned, and destroyed, the printed roses almost wilted in a literal sense. The skin peeled back, the building now stood, a mere wooden skeleton of its former, kinder self.

The brittle beams struggled against the pull of the earth, and on the far side of the room, a table lay crippled by the bared walls. Its legs were snapped, its surface smeared with dark powder. However, despite the wreckage strewn about, it was obvious that once upon a time, this was indeed the shop of a keykeeper. Both sides of the room were lined by the small locked drawers that had contained the beautiful keys of dolls... but they were smashed open, displaying their hollow interior for all to see.

The tiny cats that adorned the drawer-tops lay shattered on the floor. The vase of flowers once beside it had met the same end. The water seeped along the cracks of the floorboards, drowning the remnants of fragrant blooms along with a slip of paper, half-dyed red.

Further papers, destroyed to the point of being unreadable, were crammed into the flickering hearth to the left. A wooden chair, legs licked by the flames, lay beside a pair of broken glasses - its silver wire frame was twisted beyond repair. However, rather than the hearth, the remains of a bonfire lined the pit of a gaping hole in the center of the room. Inside it was an inch of cinder along with the remnants of a half-eaten meal.

Other than the crackling of the fire, the house was quiet... unnaturally so. However, even stranger still were two objects mysteriously intact. The first, tacked to the door leading into the keykeeper's private quarters, was a singed fold of paper. Although the ink was blurred, two significant clues remained:

'Have patience - the keys unlock the gates to immortality'

... and...

'Eternal is the Master Key'...

The other object, seeming misplaced amongst the ruins, was a strange silver amulet. Engraved into the disc was what resembled a serpent devouring its own tail. Hanging from a nail upon the wall, it seemed almost deliberately placed.

So normal it seemed from the outside... and humans rarely frequented the shop meant for dolls. The people of Terota might not have known if it weren't for the dolls that fateful day.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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While the keywinder's shop gaped in horrid, ashen disrepair, a small child named Dove stepped from a Brougham, bagless and with no chaperone. She did not need one, of course, for she was far older than her cherubic looks may lead one to believe, and as jointed Doll, she needed no thing and no one to survive... save someone willing to wind her key.

Tapping softly on the cobbled walkway into the town proper, well-worn wooden chopines gave the brown-skinned doll a fuller height than her diminutive frame lent otherwise. Modestly beaded and slipper-style, they protected delicate, hose-encased feet. Brilliant eyes, glimmering rainbows in and of themselves, peered out from drowsy lids, taking in the familiar city with an austere gaze. Truly, Dove cut a remarkable figure; not because she was tall, nor was she excessively bejeweled, whimsical or delicate. No, if anyone took particular notice of her, it was because she was so small, and yet she moved with an unwavering purpose. Clad in boy's cathedral garb, the fleece-crowned Doll moved through the winding streets, inexhaustible as she sought the small, cozy shop towards the center of town. There were a great many blocks to go.

Of course, there was no hardness to her step as she went, for her joints did not allow for such. Rather, she moved as if God himself were up in the clouds, pulling her strings with inherent grace. She was but a toy in a puppetshow, and the script was already planned.

Sectioned digits clasped behind her back above the split in her coattails, the little Lamb came steadily closer to her destination, an adorable curl to the corners of her pouty apricot lips. People. Doll and Human alike. They infatuated her. Some smiled at her, enamored with her 'adorable' looks, and she returned the gesture. With her expression made unassuming and guileless by the droop of her snowy lashes and her innocent face, she watched them as they moved about. Some so stern and upset over some issue that they barely noticed where they were going. Such haste. The vexation would be forgotten in a week, and yet they were neglectful enough to bump into someone. Lo, how the discontent is spread. Ah, there, a Doll that has purposefully modified his face as to appear viscerally scarred, seeking the ruggedness one assumes of a human with the same affliction. Bless him.

Dove did not scoff. Nor, in her thoughts, did she judge. At length, she rounded the corner and ended up on the gently sloping street that led to the keykeeper. There was no need to check her watch, she was quite sure that she was well on time, as always, and as always things had gone according to plan. She rather enjoyed being punctual, and really, the only reason she was here earlier than she absolutely needed to be was because it was terribly important to her that she should have time set aside to help those in need, should they be placed in her path.

Tok, tok, tok.

Her chopines clopped hollowly, her smoky curls bounced upon velvet-clad shoulders. Would that she was able to smell the remains of smoke; she would have already known fear. It was not until her vitrail eyes settled upon the blackness at the end of the street that the strange, unfamiliar emotion known as terror would flash within her chest. For a moment, her mind was slow, taking its time in understanding what it saw, and nearly refusing the answer. For once, her eyes were wide open.

...Worn wooden shoes crunched over gritty, charred wood as she pushed past the jarred, open door, and a sound cracked in the Doll's throat. Her angelic mouth fell open. 'This... this simply cannot be.' She thought. Her mind felt like a void as she stepped further inside, filling itself with twisted images of what had been and what now was; everything broken, charred, desecrated. With a morbid slowness, Dove felt herself drawn further within, seeking an answer, a reason, a name for what had happened. She paused at the black maw of an old fire in the floor and looked into the hearth at the crumbled remnants of paper. Letters? Records? Glinting dully in the sooty space, her vision moved left with a near-silent grind from her neck, and her lagging body followed. The paper pinned to the wall was the most whole, and the most clean, and it drew her focus; a focus only diverted by a splash of red. No, it was not the roses now singed in the wallpaper, or the bruised flowers that lay in their water on the sodden floorboards. Instead, it was a bit of paper. Hesitant, for some part of her always avoided stain, Dove reached out, plucking the thing up with jointed fingers and looking it over.

No matter the undesirability of the situation, she did not frown and her brows did not knit. No. There was time. Reminding herself of the virtue of always thinking ahead, the Doll, folded up the scarlet paper in her tiny digits and moved to the cryptic message, reading the blurred scrawl well enough, even at a distance.

Surely, thought the lamb, this must be a test.

In the eerie stillness, she felt something against her chest. It was her pendant.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

The setting changes from Terota to The World


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Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Raine Alba

Commuting was such a tedious process. There was nothing to do, nothing to see. Raine, a ball-jointed doll, rested her crafted head against the frosted glass that made up the window, without sparing a glance for the untamed wilderness outside. One of her small hands rested demurely in her lap, while the other tapped on the soft seat impatiently. Every so often, the carriage would lurch up into the air when hitting a stray stone, and Raine’s face became more thunderous with each jolt. The soft clipping sounds of the horses’ hooves made a dreadful monotony, and Raine watched through unblinking eyes the process of moving her body from one place to the next.

Her destination was like always, Terota, for her semiannual winding. While some dolls arrived in discrete manners, usually by foot unless possessing some particular economic benefits, this was a ceremony to Raine’s doll-like characteristics. What other human could even hope to possess that smooth skin, that shining hair, and more importantly, the thought of being blessed with it for an eternity and beyond? While infrequent, she was always certain to travel with the most comfort and pomp that she could afford at the time. Her destination was a charming, quaint village, at least it would be without the dratted people that populated it. Those humans and their mindless shadows of dolls. But even then, it was nothing compared to the beautiful port city of Sagen. Her city. That city she presided over as one of the oldest and most beautiful dolls. Raine, personally, missed the comfort of civilization…

A glance out of the window later, the slightly morphed buildings seen out of the window seemed familiar. The carriage jostled up and down on the cobblestones. All this made Raine come to the conclusion that they were almost there. Turning her eerie golden glass eyes of hers towards the external sights, she jerkily moved one hand towards the overly ornate handle to the door. Raine could not, personally, believe that the keykeeper would have decided to reside in such a little area… but he was human, so his ignorant behavior was just to be expected. Without notice, her hand tightened on the latch, and without notice, pushed.

The door swung open gracefully, with the carriage still rolling forward. With almost careless balance, Raine kept one hand on the open door, and used it as leverage to stretch herself up to her full height, showing off her appearance and clothing. She coughed, not to clear her throat, but to persuade her servant to pay more attention to her mistress. As a result of that, the carriage slowed and stopped, gliding to a stop in the middle of the street.

Raine allowed one of her clean and impeccable white slippers to touch the far more grimy surface of the street, before with her head held high like an aristocrat, and her movements almost curiously doll-like compared to the plethora of newer Jointless dolls. Walking down the street, she kept her golden eyes forward - the common masses were not worthy of her attention. But even then, her eyes were caught on those dolls that disturbed her. Those vain mockeries of humans, throwing away their own delightful characteristics - those dolls with skin. Raine would like to think that she drew the jealous glances of those others, but refrained from searching their more expression faces for such evidence.

There was one doll that made her skin crawl, that is, if she had any. A face that was rugged and covered with scars, Raine mentally shuddered with disgust and wounded pride. Her ‘father’ would not have created him in such a way, which meant that it was a new ‘addition.’ Being a doll was the gift of everlasting youth, and to imagine such a present from their ‘father’ taken away for the sole sake of appearing like a human. It was those dolls that she hated the most. Those dolls that flaunted their human characteristics; it almost made her think as though they were embarrassed of being a doll.

The dollkeeper’s place was abnormal today, but Raine paid it no mind before throwing open the door and striding inside. There was another doll - jointed, young. She didn’t pay the other any attention, before her eyes were drawn towards the shattered glass and splintered wood that covered the floor. She paused in the doorway, unwilling to scratch her possessions on such a mess. Turning her attention towards the only ‘living’ being, whom she assumed was a worker, started to speak - speech slow and halting, like that of a child. Her matter-of-fact tone made it clear that she was not expecting to be argued with. “Where is he?” Raine asked brusquely. “I need to get wound up. And mind you, this mess is unpleasant. I would highly suggest you do something about that.” Her black hair tumbled down her back, seemingly neat despite her long journey. Both arms hung down her sides stiffly, not in use. She paused, before continuing again. “The keykeeper will be back, rig-.”


She had just then caught the sight of the mindless destruction that pervaded the entire shop. The top drawer, on the right, where her key used to be. Looking with almost unbelieving eyes, Raine saw the gaping hole and without care for her shoes, stepped across the room towards the cabinets. Her key was gone - that beautiful object that the dollmaster had made for her. She turned with appalled anger towards the doll. “Is this your doing?”


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Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The setting changes from The World to Terota


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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While a fine and decorated carriage paraded singly through the winding streets of the city, no doubt drawn by fine and decorated horses, a doll child stood in the desecrated memory of the keykeeper's shop. For a time, it had stood beneath the strange memo as if in a trance. After all, there was nowhere to be but here, and that appointment was obviously delayed. Nothing spurred her from that spot while she thought and pondered this situation, for her curvy and slightly bowed legs would not tire, and neither would her back. Internally, she was in a space of pensive puzzlement. After all, there were many options for an explanation as to what had happened, and yet none of them seemed to make sense. Luckily, confusion was not quite so discombobulating to most dolls, and Dove was no exception. In fact, she was a fine example.

Slow, light steps brought the child back across the sodden, ashen floor, chopines crushing and grinding bits of charred wood beneath the solid soles. It was the toppled furniture that drew her attention now, the table with broken legs and a top covered in black powder. With a neat, perfunctory manner, Dove tucked the folded bit of reddened paper into her velvet coat and surveyed the faint staining on her little fingers. Were she but porcelain, that never would have happened. But chamois took a bit more work to keep clean. Another smooth, eerily slow reach had her reaching into a different pocket and seeking a small kerchief, but she paused before buffing her hand clean. The powder. She bent sideways with a quiet twang from an internal wire, and dragged two ruddy fingertips through the stuff, bringing them under her full-spectrum gaze for inspection. There was something familiar about it, and yet it defied naming in her mind. With a thoughtful frown, she cleaned her hand, rubbing the thin, soft hide clean, and tucked the stained part of kerchief into itself before putting it away. Were it the way of Dolls, she would have sighed as she clasped her small hands behind her back, resting them above the split of her coattails. She waited patiently for the rumbling of the conveyance to cease and wondered, shortly, who may be entering.

It was in this still position, with her back turned and her head of grey curls facing the door, that Raine would find the lamb. It did not move at the sound of her accusatory voice, it did not turn to eye her resplendent dress and immaculate porcelain. Away from the other Doll's golden gaze, Dove just smiled while she went on in clear frustration. What a haughty thing, and so impatient. Though the raven-haired figure's voice was stilted, so too was Dove's slowed, and so she did not truly have time to interject for any of the answers demanded of her, given her penchant for thinking before speaking.

Only when Raine moved quickly and stiffly to the expansive chest-of-drawers that kept the many keys that belonged to the numerous Dolls of the land did Dove's head turn; further to the right than a human's ever could, and with a low, quiet hiss of the socket. Those resplendent eyes were owl-like and hooded, and rest upon the opened drawer Raine stared into, aghast. Anger was tossed at the child doll, but it did not respond immediately, save the lifting of a shushing hand. The palm faced her, the fingers curled, though the index and middle raised higher than the others, as if reminding her of divine providence. Dove's eyes glided in her still, cherubic face, moving quickly over the pristine Doll before it with little attention paid to te ruffles of that fine dress, or the beauty in the sculpted parts. She was not concerned in the least. Her lovely, upturned purse of a mouth curled faintly at the corners, as she was made, and there was little drastic enough to wipe the smile from it. In fact, it widened ever so as she felt a twinge of pity for this pretty thing, and she spoke. "It is not." Her voice was lower than one would expect from a child, doll or human, and had a feathery huskiness to it. Considering her 'age' and appearance, it did not help one decide whether the curly-headed doll was male or female in intention.

Turning her diminutive body in direction of her face, Dove reached out and pointed to the far wall upon which hung an ouroboros and a note. "Look there." Her arm stayed stiffly raised, and one corner of her mouth tugged in a gentle, chiding smile. "Mind your dress, love." Her voice was faint in this empty stillness, hanging strangely in the air with its unaffected tone. With that velvet sleeved arm still raised, the little one looked down at her rosary, and it was only when she decided to reach for it that her hand was lowered. She cradled the clock in her palm, and the beads rattled quietly. With her eyes set fondly on the antique locket, Dove raised her brows piteously in concern.

"I hope you have some time, early one." -The term here related to Raine obviously being jointed, and there for senior to the jointless, whom she called 'new ones'.

"...not quite sure what has happened." With that, the genderless Doll raised 'her' face to Raine, that peaceful smile indelible.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The city of Terota watched in awe as a doll-like figure roamed the streets. Surely, it has been a long while since she stepped foot into these lands that was dwelt by living or to her liking the humans. She fears these creatures and towards her they bring forth many unpleasant memories although their faces vary most of them have the wicked glances upon their faces especially those of this generation. Her worn-coal colored boots made contact with the walkway. Orchid's face held a serious expression, she was not here to yet ponder and play.

As she walked more passing a few jointed dolls of herself and a couple joint-less dolls, who snickered at her. She shrug, obviously they thought they were better and prettier than the older and more wiser jointed dolls. Orchids pushed her blonde hair back and kept walking as the sun shined over her head. After taking a carriage over to this town she had decided to walk to lessen traffic and annoying people, she was wearing a rather long dress filled with numerous ruffles and beads that aline on the chest area, the fabric was made out of cotton and was patterned with flowers of different colors and sizes. Her blonde hair was left free dangling on her shoulder, a thick hair band resembled the pattern of her dress and bestowed on it was a small fragile flower.

She merely reached her destination when the smell of smoke was suddenly noticeable, her nostrils filled with that familiar scent as she walked into the used to be warm and inviting place but now a destroyed palace of burnings. As her eyes scanned the small store she met eyes with two other jointed dolls, she was puzzled. What had happened here? Better question where was the key-keeper.. time was running out you know. She bit her lower lip before moving closer to the strangers. " Hello." She stated her voice soft but commanding. There was two of them one rather childish looking much younger than herself who was merely 14, this one had grey-curls and looked rather stunning and devious. Jealously uprised She obtained the hair of an animal, not straight but not yet curly a fragment which the hair dresser calls as wavy. The other looking 15 years of age had dark long brown hair an angry face pasted upon her head. She decided there must be a conflict brewing. A breeze blew in and her dress floated to once side and so did her rather unpleasant hair. Orchid stared at the jointed dolls and nibbled on her lower lip, something she did when she was rather upset or nervous.

"Do any of you know where the key-keeper went or why this store is in ruins?"she asked her voice like butter on toast.

They ignored her she tapped her foot and crossed her hands, obiviously they had heard her...

(Sorry very this post is bad indeed, I have writers block)


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Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by xKyrie

Showing off a tall and imposing figure as she stepped out of the carriage, Cassandra spared no heed of the mixed questioning and awed looks darted at her way. Donned in a short scarlet-colored dress and a pair of butterfly-decorated, high-heeled black pumps, the amethyst-haired girl turned to the woman inside the carriage.

"I thank you for your company, Madame Lilian", she spoke impishly, eyeing the said woman from under her lashes. "You are truly a wonderful blessing my lady. I will forever will be in your debt." Her voice sultry and with an indulging smile in her face, she winked at Lilian Gaborne of Hastings. The portly woman can't help but redden slightly at the praise and coyly covered her face with the fan in her hands, just giggling in the process.

Cassandra then settled into a customary curtsy, holding the littlest trail of her dress into the side. "I will be taking my leave now. Please always take care Madame." She accompanied her words by placing her hand on a cheek of the golden-haired woman. She softly caressed her before murmuring, "I hope we meet sometime in the future." Staring at her directly, she smiled again before dropping her hand to her side and stepping away to leave. The said woman can't do anything but stare at her in muted shock, the enchantment and fascination is obviously etched in her face.

Cassandra took out her parasol and opened it with ease. Trudging in a steady pace towards the only key-keeper's shop in Terota, she walked ahead with purpose. It had been a long while since she last visited this place. Pretty much a quite long while actually.

Since she had possessed two keys instead of the usual number of one as what is normal for each doll, she did not see the need of coming back here. She took a key with her and left the other one with the key-keeper. Ever since then, she was able to live by with having just the silver key with her. Having another key gave her the privilege that those other dolls doesn't have. Though it might grow tiresome for a while, about needing to be winded after every two days, still she's happy with her situation. She definitely gets used into not settling into that rhythmic schedule of visiting this shop, miles away from her home, in Belerise. In fact, it might have been more than five years since she last stepped in Terota.

If it wasn't for her urgent current need, she would never have come back. Cassandra of the Everett House would have not been caught dead, or as dead as she could be, here if it wasn't because she truly needed to get her key from the shopkeeper.

Smirking inwardly at another gaping face that she had passed by, she then turned round the corner and found herself in front of the familiar shop.



Or what should have been the case to Cassandra. Snapping her neck to see the surrounding establishments near this barely recognizable dilapidated building, she reflexively put a hand over her mouth. Noting the same shops and houses nearby, she is quite certain that she wasn't wrong when she walked towards this place. If her memory served her right, in this pitiful looking shabby shack is where the very same modestly designed key-keeper's shop should have stood. She shook her head and slightly lowered the skirt of her dress that had hiked up past her thighs from when she had walked before. She closed her parasol and lightly arranged the hat from its position in her head.

Stepping inside, she eyed the door hazardously left on the floor and cringed as she noted the dirt and accumulating dirt inside. She held a gloved hand in front of her chest, the other holding tightly into her parasol and purse. 'What had happened here?' She thought in confusion as she discovered how far destroyed the place had been as she entered inside. It was no doubt the same old key-keeper's shop that she left her key with, years prior, she concluded staring at the broken cabinets on the side.

"Do any of you know where the key-keeper went or why this store is in ruins?" Was the first thing she had heard, seeing a golden-haired jointed doll standing at the side.

Her nose crinkled, showing her simple distaste as she saw the two other jointed dolls. Honestly of all the strange things that could happen to her, this would have topped it all. Seeing the store which should have held the only literal key for her future- in shambles and being surrounded with a disturbing number of haughty looking jointed dolls in one room together with her does not absolutely bode her well.

She then planned and decided that it would be better if she just quietly observe them for the meantime. She may need to use one of them, if things come to worst. She may have to charm these dolls to encourage them to follow what she wanted them to do and tell her later on. Everything was still very confusing for the jointless doll. Knowing that she's not the first one to discover what had happened, she was forced to rely on them for information.

"I'd like to know that too", she spoke after the statement, the curiosity getting ahead of what she initially intended to, and that was supposedly to keep quiet for a while. She turned calculating eyes towards the other two doll, her face emotionless as usual, and inspected them from head to toe. One of these three dolls may or may not be her only way to solve what happened here.


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Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Day 0, Hour 0, Minute 51

The paper was still wet, and hung limply as though lacking a spine. The highly diluted red solution still dripped ever so slowly, and the pool of water it had been resting on was stained a similar shade of red. If one looked closely at the damp fibers, there was still the faintest shadow of a past image that had been written on its surface, with the majority of the ink having been stolen away by the liquid. The most visible word was ‘agen’ in highly elaborate script, mere centimeters from the upper edge. Touching the limit of the remaining material was a large eclipse, encircling the word as well as a little of its surrounding area. A gently curving line led the from that shape to an almost perfect square, although slightly taller than wide, which was marked ‘Tero’. A cautionary ‘???’ marked the rest of the paper in a larger size, along with a multitude of illegible scratches.

There was a rip on the bottom of the paper, the jagged edges looking almost like bitten by some large beast. The fibers were soft there, and almost fragile. While the backside was also stained crimson, there was a little more to be seen there. On the top of the sheet, the word ‘Sage’ was written, before a grid of perfectly straight vertical and horizontal lines ran from side to side. There were words inscribed on each of these lines, but they were indecipherable from the mess. In the center, there was a break in the pattern, with a square taking up exactly the width and length of six of those lines. In this square, there was a barely legible word. Was it ‘Varel’ or ‘Novel’? There was nothing else of interest on the sheet, although an upwards pointed arrow neatly highlighted a capital N.

The substance that covered the desk was a dark grey on closer inspection, not the black that it had seemed before. It brought with it the faintest smell of lead, and left a streak of a lighter, but still shining silver to everything that it touched. This powder was hard to the touch, and a closer glance would reveal that it was made of pieces of varying sizes.

Raine Alba

The insolent child of a doll immediately pointed to a further wall where a note and strange object hung. While Raine had no intention of following her orders, the objects piqued her attention, and with stiff, puppet-like steps, she stepped daintily through the rubble. A shard of glass scratched over her porcelain skin leaving a, she was sure of it, visible mark. She sucked in the air from her teeth more out of irritation than the slight pain that came with that. The child continued to speak, with a soft, almost floaty voice. “I hope you have some time, early one.

Whilst Raine usually disliked those dolls who had the belief that by calling her old, they would actually escape her grasp unscathed by humiliated - this doll had much more polite language. Although, she couldn’t help but feel as though the child was somewhat belittling herself, Raine felt the lack of energy getting to her somewhat. Perhaps she shouldn’t have ended up deciding to cut her winding so close, but there was no choice. Her carriage had been getting repaired until this day. And but of course, she would not be seen in anything barring perfection.

Before she realized there was another arrival, there was a voice that seemed smooth like soap. “Do any of you know where the key-keeper went or why this store is in ruins?” came the almost-innocent question. A slight pause while Raine deliberated whether to put the female back in her proper place or to finish pushing onwards to the symbol, she continued onwards. Her steps coming on with a soft pat every time her slippers touched the filthy floor.

I’d like to know that too,” came yet another voice. Raine sighed, before stopping on her slow and almost tedious progress to the Ouroboros. It seemed as though there was a need to explain things - even though she personally had no idea as to the truth, even her guess would be more correct than the deductions of that child. From the sight of her, she was probably slightly younger, a younger sibling that was created by the Dollmaster.

Raine turned around, using her momentum to spin towards the new arrivals. While one was more tastefully dressed with blond hair, the other with the parasol was wearing quite revealing clothes. The one with the better apparel had curling blond hair and although pretty in her own right, Raine outshone her like a sun did the stars. The one without the joints had strangely colored hair - and was taller than herself. She couldn’t say that she liked the feeling of having to crane up her neck, but it just went to show her garish appearance. It just went as evidence that the newer dolls seemed to lack both taste and decency. The first new arrival were also much newer from the sight of her, not a newer sibling per se. The distance between their respective models was similar to that between generations.

With a scornful cough, Raine cleared her throat, as though daring others to interrupt her already slower speech. That in mind, she decided that even if one of the other dolls interjected, she would merely pitch her voice higher and speak above them. Their opinions did not have to be heard, after all. “Are you but spoiled brats?” she stated, with a hidden thorn in her voice, at the questions the new arrivals had thrown her way. “If I had to answer all of your questions, we would be here for the rest of my eternity. If you’ve realized that you’re clueless and useless in such a situation, would you please keep your little opinions to yourself? I’m sure that your imaginary friends would find great solace in knowing that there was someone as stupid as them. That is if you even have minds to use. Perhaps the Dollmaster forgot because he was petrified by the idea that you would become the cretins of society.

“Wait. I forgot. You already are.

“Now if you’ll do me a favor, you’ll listen to your superiors and obvious betters. As soon as I have finished looking at everything of interest, I am going to find that coward of a key keeper and take back my belongings. Whether or not you do too, I don’t see why I would care.”


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Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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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.

The setting changes from Terota to The World


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Raine Alba

After her wrath had been completely expelled on the sorry excuses for dolls, Raine found that she had a smile resting on her porcelain face. Ah, it always was a slight hobby of hers to put people where they should belong - especially if they were so forward with their faults that she really couldn’t help but seeing it. Hearing a clacking sound, she turned towards the child, who - to her greatest delight, was much shorter than she was, and less perfect as well.

In her hand, she held a red, dripping rag of paper, and Raine nearly turned away with a haughty sniff. There was no way that such a piece of trash would be useful in finding the keykeeper. He had just gotten scared of his heavy responsibility and ran. Well, it was just up to her to fetch him back again, giving him a short lesson while she was at it. “Look here, sweetling - ah, do not touch it, for your dress and skin are so fine-” The doll with the luxuriously brushed black tresses looked more closely at the piece of what she just realized was paper, as her glass eyes caught many of the details that had been inscribed.

The child amused her greatly, and there was a inkling of like for the language used. As the… Raine just noticed that despite all that she knew about the doll - she really couldn’t tell what gender the doll was… Maybe her overly sweet honorifics grated on her ears slightly, as it made her feel younger, when she was obviously younger, but she was much better than the rest of the companions she had been saddled with. “...Don’t you think, perhaps, Sagen may be of some interest?

Without looking at the faded texts, she could have told the doll that much already. Sagen was her home, and therefore, it was obvious that it would become important. But as Raine really found within her a kernel of burning dislike for the cowardly keykeeper, she forced herself to focus more intently on it. Yes, there was the ‘Sage’ and scanning it quickly, she noticed something alarming. Despite the fact that the system of straight lines appeared to be a map, Sagen was not organized in such a manner. Instead of a grid-like system, it was arranged in a wheel - so there must be something wrong with it. Neither did she recognize the plaza in the center.

She was just about to speak when yet another doll arrived. This one was jointless, yes, but pale like a blank canvas. Without a startling use of color, the newcomer was nothing more than a doll who was waiting to be finished. Raine blinked her golden eyes in sheer arrogance - waiting for the doll to draw her attention to her exquisitely-formed appearance. The doll herself wasn’t that badly made, but once again, she could only say that she was far more brilliant than she was. The glistening form of snow in no way could attempt to touch the light produced by the sun. “Hello, I’m guessing that something’s happened to the doll maker… Have you found anything that may lead us to the information on what happened here?

Raine was planning on ignoring her, but she couldn’t help but reach out with a statement, delivered with spite. “Well, I would tell you, but you’re jointless. I have found that throughout my entire existence, none of your generation are worth my time. If you would remain in the corner there, I would be very much obliged. I, personally, do not need anyone to get in my way. If you can prove that you have been gifted with a mind, be my guest.”

Then, turning back towards the child, she spoke in a slightly softer tone, although the volume of it was still loud enough to be heard… “So he has decided to run to Sagen in fear, is it? How impolite of him. I had spent so much time and effort commuting here for him, and now he decides to make my previous efforts useless.” The porcelain fingertips on her hands clacked together as she pressed them together in thought. “We’ll have to find him quickly - so there is no time to be wasting here.” Then, with a turn towards the doorway, she called back over her shoulder at the younger doll. “If you’d bring that and any other points of interests, we might as well make our way to the beautiful port city of Sagen.”


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Character Portrait: Jaina Cassandra Character Portrait: Raine Alba Character Portrait: Orchid Ross Character Portrait: Viyo Marie Character Portrait: Dove Oneira Character Portrait:
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#, as written by xKyrie

Throughout their whole exchange, Cassandra had opted to listen closely at the conversation, all the while looking around the destroyed shop. Not that they were actually saying something important or worth taking note off, but for the amethyst-haired jointless doll it would be a great advantage to study the personalities of these beings.

It was because of these studies that she had learned to triumph any situation/problem she encountered.

Secretly scoffing at the obvious insults thrown towards the others and also advertently to her, Cassandra just let the “older” girl take control of the situation and dish out statements word after word.

‘This one is such a cranky old doll’, she can’t help thinking as she noticed her getting irritated even of the littlest things. The golden-eyed doll spoke as if she was someone of higher status—like what is normal for the jointed dolls, even if she had in many words plainly declared to all of them that she had no clue on what has happened in here. ‘And she dared to call us clueless and useless?’ She briefly made a face at the back of the speaker before arranging her expression into an innocent one- well, as innocent and weak she can be-.

Her head lowered as if in shame, and her hand clutched the parasol to her chest. Looking every inch helpless and inferior, she tried hard not to catch the black-haired doll’s eyes; bowing down and staring at the dirty ground.

‘If weak and inferior she think of us, then that is what she will get’, were Cassandra’s thoughts as she played the character to the fullest of her ability. Settling on this new approach (personality change), she waited expectantly to what the other dolls reaction will be.

It was natural for beings like them to be arrogant and proud. No doubt they had every reason to be. Not only were they beautiful and striking in appearance, the limitless time- their immortality, the grander skills and talents of dolls and sometimes the envy and bitterness of human themselves proved as a confirmation for the superiority of dolls overall the living creatures. It would assuredly be a surprise for them to see such a spineless doll.
In all truth though, getting back at the one-sided dialogue in front of her, she had been most tempted to leave as soon as the black-haired golden-eyed girl had stated about finishing the search for anything that could give clue to the key keeper’s whereabouts. If it was up to her she would not endure any longer the company of these unbearable presences. However once she had underwent an undeniably heavy weighing down of the positives and negatives and after regarding the other girls, she decided to stick around a little longer.

Though she was probably as vain and haughty as they are, Jaina Cassandra was more inclined with pursuing every means about a particular goal rather than getting sensitive and offended with the several insults directed at her. For the brown-eyed girl, though they were unknowing this moment, surely later on these jointed ones might find some clue about the location of the key-keeper.

From what she had gathered, it is duly confirmed that the-key keeper wasn’t here, though he was supposed to be. Not that the broken things hadn’t helped to serve as enough clue to what has happened, it still didn’t hurt her to be more certain. After all, it had been years, a time far too long since she last visited. Who knew what had changed since then?

Biting her tongue to control herself from retorting and speaking out loud in their presence, she waited until the first doll- the superior acting one, addressed them and uttered the possibility of travelling towards another place.

Ah, Sagen! One place she can deem to call a town of sin and pleasure . She had been to the place once, and that was a few years back. Her master had longed to see the port during that time. Finally after a lot of planning and effort, few weeks later they were given the permission to go and visit it.

Without a doubt, she could definitely say that she have enjoyed the trip. The most memorable vacation she ever had!

It wasn’t because of the location though- more so because of her companion. She could still clearly remember the moment that both of them were gazing at the sea, standing at the edge of the harbor. It had been such a warming and pleasant experience.

Comfortable silence had permeated over them, as they contented their selves with listening to the sounds of the waves crashing and the birds flapping their wings. No words were needed and even if they had only stayed there for such a short time, to her, it was one of the most treasured minutes she had experienced ‘til forever.

Too bad she couldn’t do that same thing now.

Instead, it seemed to her that she will be accompanied with uptight and stuck-up dolls on her second visit. ‘Jolly!’ She can’t help but do an inner monologue, hiding the scowl that was sure to grace her beautiful features.

With the right amount of shyness and awkwardness injected in her voice, she then questioned--stuttering while doing so, “I’m sorry if I might sound foolish… but, h-how do you plan on traveling to Sagen? I have never been to that... place and I heard that it’s a town that also serves as a port. What if there were pirates? Or drunkards?”

She then looked around, gripping tightly the parasol in her hands. She had performed her best, looking authentically weak and pathetic to everyone who’ll see her.

This acting was a game she had perfectly mastered. Especially when the duchess had ordered her to be imprisoned in a room away from the young heir-- this activity had grown to be a past time. There were only few who have seen through her act, and even then, she made it certain to not intentionally reveal her bluff until the very end… or if not, until she gets bored.

((I'm willing to edit anything you guys might find wrong in this post. :> Sorry for the grammar inconsistencies. []__[]

Edit: I forgot to change the place!! >.< Sorry! ))

The setting changes from The World to Terota


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Day 0, Hour 1, Minute 02

Raine Alba

Raine took a brief glance around the building for one final time. Overcome with shock from the pigsty inside and her missing key, she had previously not been able to look around herself. There was really nothing of interest beyond those two pieces of paper that the genderless child had already shown her - but there was no way that Raine would idly follow someone else’s opinion. She was going to have to take a look herself. Paying no real attention to the ground, she walked towards the chair that lay on its side. Peering at the ruined brown wood carefully, she ran one hand against it - although she could literally feel nothing. One more fearless step later, she let out her breath with a harsh sound as her flawless feet stepped on something hard and pointy. The black-haired doll carefully stepped backwards before picking up a twisted silver glasses frame.

A face flashed in front of her face - that of the keykeeper himself. Watery brown eyes obscured by glasses along with cropped dark hair. His features were the same as any other human, and at least to Raine, there was no way that one would be able to recognize him in a crowd. He was unremarkable in every way… But that wasn’t important. At the very least, she would recognize her key anywhere. The jointed doll twisted the glasses between her hands before tossing it into the fire without sparing it a backwards glance.

It was then that she was distracted by her mindless meandering through the area by a sound. So, someone was speaking, were they? The … jointless one. She looked extremely demure, which, while pleasing Raine greatly, seemed to be at odds with her slightly revealing clothing. Still, it seemed as though the jointless one realized exactly the gap between the two beings. “I’m sorry if I might sound foolish…” she spoke in a similarly timid voice, while Raine’s glass eyes flashed with amusement. Watching those inferior to her making fools out of their foolish selves was ever so funny. “but, h-how do you plan on traveling to Sagen? I have never been to that … place and I heard that it’s a town that also serves as a port. What if there were pirates? Or drunkards?

Listening to the idiot insult her precious home had Raine momentarily clenching her fists. But she quickly relaxed. Such a human display of emotion was beneath her, being a doll and all, so instead she faced the jointless doll with a patronizing smile. “Now, now, you. I don’t recall inviting you in any way. I wouldn’t want your jointless self to contaminate my belongings, you see. It’s nothing personal - just a complaint about how completely marred you are. Your imperfect might mar myself, jointless.” But maybe she would need a porter. Raine was ever so conscious of the ticking clock inside herself as she slowly unravelled. She only had two days left to chase down that cowardly keykeeper, and well - having some extra hands would be helpful.

“Don’t speak of Sagen that way,” she admonished the younger being. “It’s absolutely safe. I had thought that was common sense even amongst those who knew nothing, such as yourself.” She coughed gently for emphasis before continuing. Once again, Raine was not going to stop talking even if anyone dared interrupt. Her voice was loud enough to carry even should someone speak. “The more … unsavory members you have mentioned stick to their own districts - there is nothing to fear. If you’re going to come as well, you may as well walk there; it’ll take you perhaps two days if you have the willpower to continue. That is, unless you have something to offer me?...Can you carry heavy loads? Wash clothing? Do you have a way to pay for your passage? I don’t usually take on extra weight, but I’ll make you an exception - coin will do if you can’t do anything else.”