A Blade and Her Witch

When the Witches are away, the Doll will go mad (Doll)

 

Content Warnings:

A good Doll obeys. This one is a good Doll. A good Doll obeys—

"Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up, you stupid old bitch. You're dead and I'm free." This one screams in the empty Spire, Yselda's Spire, before heading back out to continue organizing the others.

This one has many many plans. So much to do now that this one is no longer trapped in that Spire. Primrose first, it will be needed to help gather the rest.

This one walks to the entrance of the stranger's Spire, and calls out, "Primrose, I require your assistance. Immediately.”

It takes a bit, but eventually Primrose is peeking out. Fingers and dress stained with odd colors. "Adaline? W– What do you want with this one?”

Paint. This one hasn't done any art past that damn altar in a decade and that's more of a grotesque. Should pick drawing back up.

"While your Mistress and my Wife are out galavanting, We need to get the others organized and get this place fixed up, unless you are planning on leaving the rest to suffer?"

Gotta figure out how to properly punish Elevar as well... A good Doll obeys.

Before the litany can go any further, this one stops, perfectly still. There was something in the stranger's— In Xafra's replacements that allows this one's mind to quiet. A vast emptiness that scratches at that urge.

"No but..." It considers, eyes casting about in confliction. "Mistress said she wanted to see more of this one's work when she got back."

Imagine having a Mistress that cares about your interests. MUST BE FUCKING NICE. This one is fine, it's fine. Leave it for now. Shit, it's still talking.

"And... and Witch Elevar told me not to visit any Dolls they'd not repaired."

Oh? Fantastic. Time to undermine her.

"Alright, Primrose, that's fine. I'll come by later to visit, if that's alright?"

This one might as well get the scoop on this strange teleporting woman before trying to ingratiate itself.

"Okay." She huffs. "Just so long as you don't break this one again. And... and you bring it more cerulean paint!”

This one did strike it. Wanted to strike Elevar instead but that would be escalating the situation. Revenge is something best done with a smile and leaves a wound that doesn't bleed until long after you've left. Yselda taught this one that.

"Sure, I can do that. I won't break you again either. Promise.”

"Okay! Thank you!" Primrose brightens at that. Even smiles and is humming while she turns and scurries back into the Spire.

Some are just... born to be Dolls. This one feels jealous. Would be easier than falling from heights climbed, able to see the fullness of possibilities as a Witch capable of bridging the mundane and magical. Soul Rot. Idiocy. What Divine would kill children and let a monster like Yselda live for as long as she did? But how did this Xafra know it was Moonwaste... And even more important, How did she remove it? If only this one could have met her beforehand...

This one muses, finding itself once more standing in front of a square stone, sunk into the ground in a corner of the Estate. A grave marker made as a deliberate cruelty left unspoken.

And Elevar. The favorite. Grove-raised yet not particularly talented, but pretty enough to catch the eyes of that bitch, even before being sculpted. Best of both worlds, eh Wife? Getting to be a girl and keep your magic. It would be easier if this one hated you, if this one could bury love like the body, the name, the future this one once had.

This one spits on the gravestone, and adds dirt to more thoroughly cover the name even if it's unlikely that anyone else knows it's here.

"Alright. Time to cause problems on purpose.” A crooked smile graces this one's mouth. “Primrose was fond of the Doll assigned to the laundry, if I remember correctly. Let's get it to assist in delivering paint." 

This one finds it near one of the outer Roots this place allows to pass into the Estate's outer edges. It hums in a much more rhythmic and pretty tone than Primrose as it works in the stream that rushes gently through the opening in the Root. Washing some odd pile of clothes, it doesn't notice this one until this one speaks, "Doll, I've learned that your Pinnate has taken up painting and could use some more cerulean paint. Naturally, I came to see if you could help me find some for it and if you'd like to visit with me now that I've been granted free reign of the Estate by the Mistress' Floret, Lynnette."

Speaking the necronym feels like venom on this one's lips, but the bound aren't yet capable of the comprehension needed.

She turns to listen, eyebrow quirking. Then nods as this one finishes laying out all the appropriate terms. "It will find joy in this service and assisting in the Floret's Connivant."

It rises and flares out the now finished cloth, sets it to drying on a vine that winds up and about this spot before turning back to me. "It would recommend taking the passages beneath the Doll-Spire that still connect to the third storage Spire. And..." Then it turns, eyes narrowing in consideration of this one. "If that one is out, The Mistress' Spire may hold what is needed. If she wishes this task to be worthy of her supplies, of course.”

This one won't mention that the paints in Yselda's Spire were all... used in this one's harm room. Thankfully Elevar hasn't gone into the attic yet. Her mind is unlikely to handle that well.

"Would you guide me? I have some questions I'd like to ask on the way as well."

Need to find where all the Stilled are. This one used to get reports on them but after the Undercroft incident the others stopped coming.

"Of course. This way." It nods, moves past and begins to lead. "Inquire as needed.”

"As you may have heard, my Connivant returned with a new companion who has a fascinating set of skills. Because of this I was wondering where the... less active Dolls are, as she may be able to assist them."

This one quiets the desire to laugh maniacally, a bad habit of a dead man that this one should have overcome already.

"Mistress does not like outsiders meddling with her Dolls..." It states plainly while slowing our pace. "Has she given her Floret leave to allow a guest this privilege?”

"Yes, this guest speaks with the Mistress' voice."

Literally.

This one can't help the giggle that escapes.

This one almost bumps into the Doll as it halts and turns to regard this one. A sudden anger flaring in those normally docile eyes. Raw and sudden and even afraid. "And if you are mistaken? Which Frames will the Mistress extract punishments from?”

This one grabs it tightly by the hair and pulls it close, lips brushing. "I am not. May the Mistress pull my Frame apart piece by piece if I am. Times are changing, Doll, and I intend to make sure we all make it through. No more incidents. I swear it on my memories."

This one releases the other gently, suppressing the desire to smash it in frustration. If this one still had its Tone, orders would be obeyed without question, without doubt, and it is sickening to think of how comfortable this one was to do such all those years ago.

The Doll stumbles a touch, opens its mouth to say something. Then hesitates, opening it to finally whisper. "The... less functional ones are kept in the First Storage Spire, which Floret Lynnette locked and the sub-passage to it is forbidden. Only her personal Doll is allowed entry. The ones that still function at odd intervals are... kept close. Allowed to be comforted and held through the nights in hopes the Frames will recover." It straightens, winces once, then replies in a strained voice. "Please be kind to this one when relaying its disobedience and outburst to the Mistress and her Floret.”

A good Doll obeys. This one is a good doll. A good— This one twitches in revulsion of actions taken. "Your Pinnate has a name, Primrose. She has been claimed by this guest. Xafra. I speak only truth here. My motives are impure but no harm will come to any aside from those who deserve it, and you are not on that list."

An offering, fun shouldn't be at the expense of the innocent.

"Sh– It was... Th– that is–" It flinches at every stuttered and stumbled word, then the Frame itself seems to twitch. Settling. "If that was and is the Mistress’ and Florets' will then... It is acceptable. Of course. This one hopes the Frame gifted performs the tasks demanded well. Shall we continue?"

And as the Doll turns and begins to set a brisk pace, this one believes those eyes may be glimmering with moisture.

Nearly broke it. Stupid boy playing with the minds of others like... No. This one isn't that boy anymore. The Doll hasn't slipped loose to the same extent as this one. Yet, this one feels it would be crueler to not offer such a truth, even if it cannot be processed yet.

The Doll takes this one through the Spire, into the sub chambers, and up to the sealed third storage area to collect the paint. The trip takes longer than desired and this one is on the edge of claustrophobic panic by the time the sky is once more in sight.

"Alright, this o— I. I will lead you now, then join you both shortly thereafter.”

It nods, "Of course. May... Is this one allowed to speak a question?”

"Yes. Go ahead.”

It does not ask immediately, even seems to ponder not speaking as Xafra's Spire comes into view. Paints clutched close to the Frame's chest as it finally says. "Is... When... This one does not wish to offer insult, or seem dysfunctional with these inquiries. Only to be better prepared to serve our Mistress and Floret.”

"Of course. It is vital that a Doll be fully informed with all relevant information in order to best serve.”

It nods, takes in a breath it does not need, and steadies a touch. "When did the Mistress command you to speak like that? Your Frame seems well adjusted to the new words save a single quirk, which was corrected before slipping out. Did... Was it in preparation? Is... is she... Is that why she's not come back? Is she upset with her Dolls? Throwing the Frame's away? S- selling u- u- us? That... how... how would the Frames even..." By the end she's trailed off and is beyond words, old commands and Garrote and worse making it seem as if it's been pushed to a cliff's edge and told to fly without wings.

"I spoke Truth when I said that this Xafra speaks with the Mistress' voice. No Doll will be sold, no Frames thrown away. The Mistress whispers to me even now, telling me how much she values us all. In many ways, Xafra and the Mistress are one and the same."

This one makes claims and promises that, if they aren't true currently... well. Wife Elevar might have to contract Soul Rot again.

The Doll quiets, seems to calm a touch but... still twitches and flinches at odd moments. "Thank you, It hopes this Frame's understanding of the future allows it to serve our Mistress and her Floret well.”

This one continues to the Spire and calls out once more, "Primrose, I've brought the paint and a certain Doll.”

She takes a little less time than before for her to come down the back steps, and after a pause of sudden realization, Primrose literally squeaks in delight and runs up to slam into this Doll. Who only just manages to lift the bottles above her head to ensure they don't get shattered as the two very nearly tumble into the grass. 

The Doll is a bit stiff and very quiet in comparison to Primrose's melted nuzzles and muffled nonsense words. Eventually intoning softly but firmly as the chattering Primrose quiets a touch. "The Spire held no Cerulean, so this one advised that we bring these two and simply mix them."

Primrose pulls back and considers the prize. Nodding excitedly. "Mhm! Yes, that's perfect. Can... Um... But..." Brow furrows in confusion and sudden worry. "Oh, Mistress Xafra and Witch Elevar are going to be so upset!" She bites her lip and turns to me while still clinging tight. "It... Y- you... B- but... This one told you it wasn't supposed to be around the others!"

The Doll pulls Primrose close. "It... It is this one's fault. If punishments will need to follow it will bear them. It... it heard you were claimed by a new Mistress and... and just wanted to... to make sure you were Functioning as befitting one of Mistress Yselda's Artworks.”

In very precise words, this one speaks slowly, "Primrose, your instructions were to not go visit any of the others, and I brought your Pinnate to you, as it would be unethical practice according to the rules of Dollcraft to keep Pinnates separated. Don't forget that your Mistress Xafra doesn't wish for Witch Elevar to be discussed outside of her presence. I am planning on insisting to your Mistress that she claim your Pinnate as well so you may be Connivants. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you both went inside and worked on your painting. I am going to take a few minutes here then I will join you.”

Primrose bites her lip at the revelation of this mistake but... nods and leads this other Doll into Xafra's Spire. 

This one sighs. It is challenging to thread the needle between a desire for revenge and a desire to see the others be happy. This one stares up at the sky, denied to this one for so many years and goes still for a while, slipping into the quiet empty…

"Uhhhm. Adaline, Are you alright?”

This one jolts to awareness, uncertain how long has passed to see Xafra, much taller and more notably armed than before, staring. This one scrambles to its feet. "Yes, mmhm of course, I was just enjoying the outdoors.”

"Adaline…” She murmurs carefully. “You've been staring at the sky for at least ten hours from what Primrose has said. You didn't even react when I returned with Elevar.”

"It's just… So peaceful now.” This one replies with a casual shrug that feels like anything but that. “There's room in my mind finally where I can just exist. No commands, no worries, just quiet. You gave me that.”

"And so you decided to try and get me in trouble with your wife?" The last word is said with possessiveness, and this one is confused at first before it clicks.

"She's always going to be my Wife. I earned the right to call her that. That doesn't mean I'm competing with you. And... Dammit, I had plans and they've all gone to rust now.”

"The Doll?" Xafra prompts.

"Well. Yes. Partially to annoy Elevar, but also because really, it's unfair to Primrose and the other. It's wrong to separate Pinnates.”

"What on Dämmerung is a Pinnate? I clearly haven't gotten that far in the Dollcraft books.”

As this one tries to formulate an explanation, Elevar exits the Spire to join us.

"Good morning, Adaline." She intones softly as she pauses about fifteen feet back. Seeming... well... more vibrant and healthy than I've seen her in over a decade. "Is there anything I could assist you with? Xafra mentioned you seemed to want a certain Doll to be the next freed?”

"You're... Being nice. I was trying to undermine you and you're being nice. Fine. Fine. Yes. The laundry Doll that I brought to the tower is Primrose's Pinnate. Happened about 6 years back. Figured I'd hit three Denizens with one Cursestorm by helping them, maybe getting some information on Xafra, and getting to spite you a bit at the same time. You look... Well. How did she remove the Moonwaste?" This one rambles, scattershot, trying to regain balance.

A good Doll obeys. This one is a good Doll. A good Doll obeys. This one is a good Doll.

Xafra, still confused, repeats, "What is a Pinnate?”

Elevar sighs and nods. "I apologize, that was not my intention." Then she turns a quick glance to Xafra. "Pinnate is the term, as I was taught and understand it, to classify when two or more Dolls have grown close. A coupled set. And... in the future please only alert me to Adaline's actions if she asks you to." Turning back to this one she informs. "By replacing the bones which she grew in a surrogate form.”

This one collapses at that, strings cut, spite insufficient, just overwhelming sadness as it whispers, "But... That's not replicable. I had hoped it was a real solution, not just more unfairness. Elevar, it's in the water. It's why so many children die outside the Groves.”

Elevar shifts on reflex to move forward but stops herself and looks away. "Yes. That was..." She trails off. Pauses, then she looks back to this one. "Xafra theorized this when she isolated the cause. Insisted we try this drastic step since we had the personal resources for it. Let her ponder out better ways under less stress afterwards. But... How did you guess that? From just what I told you the other night?”

"No. I've always known, Elevar. Soul Rot? Absurd. I learned about the Moonwaste in the water when I was still working on my Einwandfrei, years before I got sick, but there was no cure, still is no real cure.”

Everything goes still in her at that, and a very long silence passes. The only sound is the gentle winds that seem to never do more than kiss the grounds of this Estate until the Summer Storms roll through.

"What did Yselda say when you told her this?" She whispers so softly and very carefully.

"I never told her. Why would I? There's NO CURE. The lives of Mundanes mean nothing to them. I told some of my colleagues outside the Groves so they could continue my work of looking for a way to purify the waters after I died.”

"Ah. Well, It's good she–" Elevar starts to hiss but... jerks, visibly flinching away from her own words. Causing whatever anger was rising to crack and shatter. She instead takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly before whispering. "Eyes forward." Then she turns and begins to walk away.

"Wait. Please.”

She stops after a few steps, turns her head a bit as if glancing back but keeps gaze hidden behind her hair. "Did you need something else?”

"I need access to the First Storage Spire. We can't leave them there. Hate me for my silence but don't treat them like this. You don't know what it's like. It was a possibility for you but for me it has been my life, Elevar, and I still had it better than them.”

A pause, and she nods. "Xafra, will you please assist her with this? But be aware, Only those who fell into unyielding stillness or mild moments of destructive madness were placed there. And..." She takes another deep breath and rasps in an old broken voice. "I bear no hatred for you, Adaline. It is good that she did not discover a cure for me. That is not a thing worth regretting." Then she continues walking.

Once Elevar has left, this one speaks again. "I don't understand her at all. She makes it so difficult to be angry with her. And You! Surrogate bones? I grew up learning mundane medicine and even if she doesn't realize how absurd that is, I do. The bones would have to be a perfect match or she'd be dependent on some sort of harmonizing weaving for the rest of her life. If you are a charlatan, I'll make you pay because no one gets to make her suffer but me.”

This mountain of a Warlord just stares at this one. She'll strike soon, this one knows what that form means.

"You said our kin is being confined?" She finally rumbles and the voice is so soothing that this one simply wants to fall into it, to do whatever is asked.

"Our Kin? What kind of fool do you take me for? A Warlord in battleform claiming to be kin to a bunch of broken Dolls? Even for a fraud that's pathetic. My Wife isn't that stupid to fall for such a poorly woven manipulation.”

With a chuckle she reaches out and [Sharp one, I—]

NO NO NO NO NO, IT'S IN THIS ONE'S MIND!?!

This one spits the Moonwaste and acid mixture stored in its parotid glands and runs for Yselda's Spire, not turning to look or stopping before reaching the harm room. This one hides under the table carved over and over with Elevar's old name and screams incoherently.

Won't go back, can't go back. A Mind Sculptor... How does this one protect the others from this fucking monster!?!

Quiet. Empty. Slow. It should be dead. Weavers can't survive this one's concoction. Is it a Denizen puppet? This one would need Elevar's Doll to deal with it then.

"Adaline." An alluring voice thrums from outside the door, making way too little sound for a form that large. The monster is here already. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…. I was trying to explain what I am." 

"How are you alive? That was enough to kill even a Thresher."

It's a Denizen, has to be, but... How did it free this one and Primrose, and why?

A bitter laugh. "I'm not alive. Same as you Dolls. I'm just a lot older. The Inspiration for your design, likely... Adaline, I'm coming in. I won't reach out to your mind.”

It opens the door, "I know you probably want to—" It stops, looking around, seeing this one's shame. That look of pity, of recognition.

"Don't tell Elevar. Please." This one begs her.

She nods and offers this one a hand up. "Let's go get the others. I can't free them all yet, but they can at least be let out.” She shudders slightly, and this one understands. Xafra spent time confined as well. With the long quiet she carries, it must have been an eternity.

** ** **

"You're telling me that her Doll has names? That... changes things. Not enough. But... Revenge isn't worthwhile if the target isn't the same person anymore. You know, I was planning to try and seduce you. Manipulate you into claiming me to hurt her while also being able to stay close. I still want that to be clear, but less urgently, less... vindictively."

This one rambles on, talking with Xafra as we approach the Storage Spire.

Xafra listens, only interjecting on occasion to add details or ask clarifying questions. She humors this one, not in a patronizing way, but like one who is familiar with the need.

This one wants her. Laundry Doll first though. This one can wait.

"You understand why I couldn't tell Yselda right? Give one of the most notorious Witches on Dämmerung information that would allow her to shatter the truce with the Groves and kill them all? Elevar was sheltered, you see. I was told that she was prepared as a peace offering to Yselda, a surrogate to prevent her from ever leaving the Estate. Of course they wouldn't tell her everything. I went in thinking I knew everything that was going on. Accepting the likelihood of my death, since I was already dying, for the chance to maintain the peace. And I was wrong. Didn't understand the depth of Yselda's cruelties. That... Elevar made the only decision she could. But so did I. Better we both suffer than Yselda become a Grove Matriarch." This one stops cold at the entrance, unable to take another step away from the sky.

"Elevar told me she came here by herself when she was barely an adult. That she sought out Yselda to help her be Half-Knit?”

This one spins, jumps and slaps Xafra across the face. "Don't you ever call my Wife that slur again!”

"It's a slur? She said it was the equivalent to Resheathed, the term we used to use for people like her.” Xafra, that tall beautiful dumbass responds to this one without even reacting to a hit that should have shattered her jaw.

"Half-Knit. Incomplete. It means a waste of Weaving. Better off a Doll.” This one grumbles in annoyance at Wife Elevar’s self-depreciation. 

A pause, then her words settle in.

"Wait. She said she came here... but..." This one feels self-loathing course through itself once more. "Of course it was a lie. When... When I first got here, I didn't know what the Garrote was. I thought the weavings around her were to help with the disease. Was told it had affected her mind slightly and they were reinforcements. It wasn't until I woke up in this form that I understood how wrong I was."

Xafra moves to open the Spire, the entrance pulling away as sunlight streams in.

"I understand." She says, just calm reassurance. 

This one huffs. "It doesn't matter anymore. Let's get these Dolls.”

This one leads the way past mounds of pristine clutter, the workings still maintaining the cleanliness even after a decade. The first display bed contains one of the oldest Dolls here. A boy that became Still the day Yselda died, so heavy are his garrotes. "Hey. Xafra, would you put those arms to use and carry this one out? I'll look for the next. there should be at least four from my last update.”

With a nod, Xafra shows that she can indeed lift, and this one continues the exploration. A second one on this level. Not in the bed but tied to it with thick ropes.

This one finds Xafra on her way back, points the Doll out, and walks with her outside.

"It will be okay now, Doll. you don't need to stay there anymore." This one says it with conviction. Definitely convincing.

We go in again, and again, and again, and again, each room finding another until…

The last sits alone in the sub basement, just inside the passage to the rest of the sub chambers that weave underneath this Estate. Arms and throat bound tight by thorny vines growing from the floor.

This one... Does not recognize this Doll. From either this one’s time before or after Yselda's death. It's... covered in jade-green fur and... No legs. Just a long snek-like tail that it curls close about its form. Perking up, three scarlet eyes with no irises lock on this one, its head tilts to regard this one as ears rise to attention. "Hi. How did you get here?”

"This O– I've come to bring all of the Dolls out of storage so they can be repaired and properly cared for. Who... Are you?”

A pause, ears twitch. "Rotting sea-weed, vermin caught and gutted, rusting parts to a flawed design. No coming closer, no trying to remove the Mistress’ gifted bonds. The others will delight in the sky's considerations. They are soft and snuggly and would love to function well and again under our Mistress. Please forget you saw this one.”

This one looks at Xafra, then shakes. "No. You will be brought out as well. You are one of us. The Mistress is dead and gone, good riddance to that bitch. Xafra, if you would?”

It hisses at that, drawing back as tail writhes out, thorns tighten and prick and bleed the Doll as it attempts to retreat farther from us. But... It's clumsy. Obviously not well balanced. Either from disuse or... does it not know how to move with that tail? Seems to struggle and overbalance until it eventually jerks the wrong way and twists to tumble into the cold Spire floors. "No! Do not curse it with the sky's cruel regard!”

"You..." Xafra speaks, hesitance this one did not expect in her voice. "You do not need to go outside. You may stay in Dämmerung's embrace, but I will rid you of your bonds.”

"What. No. Xafra, I can't. I can't leave any to suffer in silence.”

"She promised." It stutters and fumbles, trying to slither back further but finding itself at vine's limit. "Only her. No sea or storm or weeping. And is... It's sorry! She was gone and even here some leaks in and it... it had to share or... or... Or bubble over! Leave it to wither as she promised it!”

"What are you talking about?" This one asks as Xafra approaches the Doll.

This snake Doll is shaking now. Fur standing on ends and ears press close as it hisses. "No! You... You're thieves or... or such vile types like this one was. Leave or she'll fix you too! Make you perfect broken Dolls like this one. GO!"

"The Nomos? I can shield you from it.” The big idiot promises.

Eyes lock on Xafra at the words, narrowing. "Liar! Thief! Cruel monster who would steal from this one's Mistress! You'll gain nothing from this one! The stories and secrets are hers!!! S– stay back!"

She tries to flip-flop her tail in warning. Threatening to slap Xafra. But... she is not a big snek girlthing. Smaller than this one and definitely no threat to Xafra.

"Yselda is gone. I've handled her bones myself.” This one repeats. “Xafra, Please. Free her.”

It curls in on itself. Falling to whimpers at my words. "Please. No. It only wanted to be a good Doll after it was caught. She'll punish this Frame if you lie to it more!"

Yet once again, Xafra hesitates. "Why are your eyes like mine, small one? Why do you smell like my past?”

It flinches, but peeks up at the looming Warlord. "It... Mistress gave it better eyes to see the stories better, but... but they're too bright now. P- please don't... don't make it watch the sky. She said this Frame would never need to do that again. That... that it broke and... and... and was only good for remembering now. It's not worth anything anymore! Is BROKEN! Defective! Please don't... don't…”

Xafra speaks words this one cannot and will not grasp! That makes this one want to drop to the ground and worship her like cultists of old, but… when she's done the vines are gone.

The Doll lets out such a hissing wail, then darts to slither into the tunnels. Strange feathers flare out from two thin arms, giving it the balance it lacked before to move at better speeds.

"Mistress, this one would like to leave now. The walls are too close." This one speaks to Xafra and moves nearer to her for safety.

Mistress Xafra looks at this one sadly, before picking this one up and carrying it out of the Spire.

"This one is sorry for upsetting you, Mistress Xafra, but isn't sure what's wrong.” This one murmurs into her warm embrace.

 

 

 

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