dollmaker13-blog

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Inquisitorial Vision

It was amusement he found witnessing the pawns gather to protect their queen.  Combing like the destitute through rubbish for scraps as he circled.  How lovely the queen must be to breed that form allegiance.  They were beneath her excellence.  Still, he wondered just how far they would go in order to surround her, protect her.  Conceivably they would provide a unique challenge in the future when it was time to collect his muse, and he was delighted.

Had he not become so enraptured by the soft delicate features of his muses visage those around her may have called his notice.  Yurisa, a vision in her own right, could have made a suitable addition to his gallery.  Alas, the torment held within her eyes was placed by another not his hand alone. What stories those wells must have observed, the minuscule horrors her tiny frame must have endured.  It was another's work, and not his own so it was insufficient to hold his directed interest. 

Though for the sake of his art he had considered that it could prove to his advantage to remove one of the obstacles standing between him and his chosen.  It would be examined in days to come for now he would stay true to his course, and let the tapestry be woven between his fingers by his internal tempo. Obstacles would be dealt with in time he would stay alert to their movements, and so he did.

The inquisitorial vision set out to locate evidence of his previous works, his past muses. The archives were dear to him as his labors were found scattered through the pages.  Articles that had canonized his achievements.  It was the recognition of his talents and his own evolution over time. It was her eagerness to learn the histories of his collection that compelled him to once again walk the halls of his gallery.

A satisfying click of the lock opening with the twist of his master key was near as stirring as the old chain being pulled from the restraints of the door.  The door granting him access to the interior halls of his gallery, his sanctuary of frozen beauties.  His anticipations swelled as he delayed his steps toward the silent garden.  No, he would not rush his visitation. 

His heart skipping a beat as he directed his attention to a nearby table.  It was draped with a deep blue velvet cover. Beneath an imported aged bottle of scotch, two handcrafted glasses formed from crystal, a wooden box lined with golden fabric containing cigars, and a cap cutter. He lifted one of the cigars from the box and dragged it beneath his nose inhaling the aroma deeply before placing it back into its container.  No, he would not have one here. It would wait until he took his leave of them, he would not stain his hard work. 

Greedily he took a corkscrew from a nearby shelf opening the bottle lifting the cork to inhale the fragrance of the flavors.  The pleasurable burn of the honey-sweetened smoky taste had consistently been a great accompaniment to his viewings.  There was no greater instance to enjoy such vices than while recognizing his own talents, his true genius. He lifted his tongue to the roof of his mouth savoring the taste of each and every measured sip.

With this delight in hand, it was now he could appropriately stroll through the gallery to enjoy each, and every single one of his creations and their process.  He relished in projects past and the efforts that had gone into the formation of the figures before him.  Framed next to each was a memorial of the beginning transformation from ordinary to extraordinary.  Newspaper clippings he had memorized, yet he could not withdraw his eyes.  Line by line each igniting a desire, a hunger to expand his gallery in a effort to find the perfect centerpiece.

@raven-scorned,  @aredhelvaltieri

[dollmaker13-blog]

De kapelle der dooden, of, De algemeene doodenspiegel, 1737

[dollmaker13-blog]

New Project

Momentary indulgement was an acceptable step to sate his dark desires temporarily.  For now, a small gift and a note of admiration were all that was needed in order to sedate what others would consider troublesome thoughts.  He lounged in his leather armchair combing through the various plans he had for his new doll.  

She would be an exquisite addition to his gallery, a true masterpiece.  The imagined image of her frantic futile cries as her life was slowly drained to be created anew forced a sigh between his grinning lips.  A flower such as she in his garden would surely bring this madness to an end.  His collection would perhaps be complete. 

His desires were never what they ought to be, and even aware of that fact it did little to slow his work.  He thought himself something of an artist capturing the great beauties of the world and preserving them for all eternity.  His routine was solidified in his early adulthood after many successful creations had been born of his hands.

His new muse however made it all to tempting to rush the process.  He had spied her many nights wandering the streets alone.  His need to torment his new project overrode his possessive nature.  He would collect her, in time. Meanwhile, he would savor the slow buildup to his grand finale. 

@aredhelvaltieri

[dollmaker13-blog]

letters and gifts

Delivered by messenger to Lady Valiteri…

Inside the box the Lady would find a broken doll head, and a postcard.

Lady Valtieri,

You are the image of perfection in the silence of the night with ivory silken skin reflecting the moons gentle light, like a doll made of glass. A perfection, a haunting stillness to be admired, placed upon a shelf, safe from harm, but I must admit I am engulfed by an unrelenting temptation to reach out and crowd you from the ledge and view the remnants of a shattered beauty at my feet. 

Your Admirer

See you soon...

@aredhelvaltieri