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vaefox · 3 months ago

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Haven

There used to be a witch, relatively alone in the woods. Not that she didn't welcome guests, but there were ways in which she felt she needed to offer herself protection from those who might hurt her. If anyone managed to seek her out, she knew that they were most likely a friend, and often needed her help. She would devise spells for them, to heal, to comfort, and to protect. This witch was known as Haven.

For a time, she was perfectly safe in these woods, but as times changed, she noticed the effect deeply. Cloaked men began to patrol through the woods, torches lit, and daggers drawn. Many late nights were spent timidly peering out of her window, the light extinguished, and the home disguised by brush intentionally placed to keep the place inconspicuous. Haven dared not make her home unable to find, for she would surely miss someone who needed her assistance.

This proved to be an effective decision when one individual showed up to her home one day, of shorter stature than typically seen, and of features unusual in humans. Pale pink hair, and similar eyes which held not a thought behind them. The individual wore a simple white dress with a fluffy petticoat underneath, and draped over the shoulders was a similarly pink shawl. Little white tights over the legs, into cute little shiny black shoes.

The individual before Haven did a polite curtsy, "This doll's name is Heart, ma'am! It heard that there was a witch in these woods, and it would very much like to belong to a witch!"

"A doll?" Haven looked around timidly, not seeing any of the normal patrols nearby, the only sign of them being distant yells to each other, "Come inside, quickly. It's not safe out here."

As the door was shut behind it, Heart looked to the witch, "What's your name, ma'am?"

"I am Haven, how did you happen upon my home, Heart?" The witch peered out the nearest window to make sure none of the men saw the two enter.

Heart looked around the inside of the home, seeing the now thick layer of dust blanketing the collection of components and tools for spells, "Oh no, Miss Haven... Your supplies are all dusty..."

"Quiet down, little one!" The witch receded behind the curtain of the window and deeper into the home as one of the now visible men approached the home, knocking on the door.

Heart seemingly naively approached the door, looking back to check before turning and opening the door enough to poke its head through and greet the man, "Hello, sir! How can this doll help you today?"

"A doll... are you here alone?" The venomous voice of the man echoed through the home, sending chills through Haven's spine.

Heart nodded, "This one lives alone, sir. It doesn't want to make anyone in the village uncomfortable..."

"I see, a doll's house. Apologies for disturbing you, doll." The man turned away and called out to the others as the door shut him out, "Move out to another sector, men! The resident here is no witch!"

As the man presumably left, Haven peaked out of her hiding place, "Little one, you helped me? You don't even know me."

"Of course it knows you, silly! You're Haven, the witch!" Heart turned to face the witch with a thoughtless smile.

"The men, they're leaving this area?" The witch peered again outside the window, seeing that the man's torch had been extinguished and his dagger sheathed. He was proceeding away from the home.

Heart nodded, "They're heading back to the village for the night, this one would imagine. They believe that this one is the only resident here now."

"I thought dolls weren't allowed to lie." Haven turned to look at Heart as she allowed the curtain to once again fall shut.

Heart's smile parted as it explained to Haven, "It didn't lie though, Miss Haven. It does live alone, but at the moment, its home simply isn't here, unless..."

"Unless I accept you as my own doll." Haven smiled back at Heart, proceeding to it and patting it on the head, "I understand, doll. The answer is yes."

Over the next few days, the two began cleaning the house. Foliage which once camouflaged it was carefully removed, and then doubled as fuel to gently burn in the hearth. Dust was cleaned by Heart, who always seemed to follow these commands enthusiastically. Every time Haven gave it a new task to perform, it would eagerly follow it.

At night they would sleep together, Haven holding it close, very similarly to a plushie. Her upsetting nightmares often quelled by her doll's presence. Though, she found that on occasion, when her doll would have a nightmare, she could feel it, perceive it, and eventually she learned to affect it. She would return her doll the favor by comforting its mind through the nights. It was the least she could do, she thought. Her doll had been so kind to help keep her safe, and to tend after her home's needs, and asked nothing but more tasks in return.

One day, she'd ventured with her doll to a somewhat distant pond to retrieve water. Both of them carried their large jugs to refill the home's supply, and Haven had given her doll a basket to retrieve tea leaves on the way, since it seemed to love tea so much. She helped it cover the basket as it quickly filled it to the brim. The opening was wrapped tightly with a fabric covering, the handle split and slid over the edges to secure it further, and the basket was placed inside Heart's pack, for safe keeping.

As Haven turned to the pond to fill the first jug, she asked, "You are quite fond of tea, aren't you, little one?"

...

"Little one?" Concerned by the silence, Haven lifted the jug, placing it down now full on the ground, and turned to face a man, who now had Heart with its mouth covered.

He held the torch towards Haven, menacingly as his right hand cupped tightly over the doll's mouth, "What a treacherous little toy."

"Let it go." Haven's voice twisted with an emotion she'd not felt in a very long time: rage.

The man grimaced in response, "Gladly."

"Miss Haven!" The doll's desperate cries were cut short by the man's boot harshly dropping on its head as a faint crack was heard.

Haven gasped as she took a few steps back, "H-Heart..."

"D-don't... worry, Miss... It's okay, it's just, having some trouble seeing..." Heart's head peered up towards the two as the man approached, "N-now, which blob are you, exactly, Miss?"

The man's twisted grin grew wider as he drew his dagger with a sadistic glee, "Listen to your doll, witch. Don't worry, you'll be buried together. Forgotten together."

"Heart, I promise we will meet again." There was an electric quality to the words leaving Haven's mouth, imperceptible by the man, but felt fully by her doll.

Haven turned away and broke into a sprint, exiting the pond and dashing deeper, and deeper into the woods. Today was an overcast Autumn day, with a distinct chill in the air. The sun diffused through the thick layer of clouds cast an eerie flat white light across the entire area. As the falling leaves gave way to Haven's scramble through the forest, there was only one thing she could think about: the hunter trailing narrowly behind her, and how much more prepared he was to sprint long distances than her.

She reached a path often travelled by others, dotted by dried flowers, and the leaves in the center displaced by them, revealing a clear line of soil all the way through into a round clearing dotted with more fallen leaves and dried flowers. She thought for a moment that perhaps the hunter had given up, before she felt a sharp pain through her torso as something cold quickly entered, stopping her in her tracks. Smoothly and slowly, the blade of the hunter's dagger was removed back through the entry in her back. She collapsed to her knees on the ground, feeling the warm gush of blood spilling out. She looked down to see her white dress, now ruined by the splatter of dirt and blood.

The hunter stepped around in front of her, "Speak your last words, witch. You have limited time."

"I-I wish..." Haven stammered as her hands desperately grasped her wound, in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, her head growing light, and her body harder and harder to keep upright.

The hunter began cleaning his dagger with a cloth, "You wish you'd never decided to be a witch? That you'd never become the foul creature before me?"

"I wish to provide a safe home for those who may come to need it. Those like Heart, a sweet doll who does not deserve this fate." Once again, her words resonated with an electric energy, more tangible than before.

The ground began rumbling as some of it cracked. One such crack consumed the hunter before he had time to process. Stony structures rose from the ground, trees warped, and Haven felt her heart beat like fire as she became not a corpse, but something new. The violent rumbling gave way to a calm silence as left in the place of the clearing was a house, now to be dormant for nearly a century.

...

"I'm so sorry, Heart..." I look down at myself, floating above the glowing golden void open beneath me.

My sad eyes travel back up in front, surprised by what I see: a purple resonance, magic that isn't mine. It's keeping a piece of the basement stable. Self is stood at the doorway with its book held in one hand, the resonance emanating from its other, extended and straining to keep the small chunk of the place from falling apart like the rest of the house is also actively doing. Cream and Sugar lift Rye back onto the small platform as Thread clings tightly to Soul. Heart says something to Soul, something I'm too far away to hear, but moments later, Soul has picked Heart up in its left hand and appears to be preparing to throw it, at me!

I feel myself heavily impacted by Heart's sudden embrace as it giggles, wrapping its arms around me, "You were right, Miss Haven! We have met again!"

"I'm so sorry, little one. Until now, I had forgotten!" I wrap my arms around it tightly, and I want to never let it go again.

Heart gazes up into my eyes, "It's okay, Miss! Really! This one is just glad to see you again!"

"But, I do need to help you all survive this now, don't I?" I pat Heart on the head gently, "You won't like this part, but don't worry, you won't have to wait as long for me this time!"

I breathe deeply and feel my heartbeat slow and burn once again as the rubble over the void begins to drift back together. The leaves fall back into the golden light as the home I've formed for my dolls comes back into existence. I begin to warn Heart to let go of me for this next part, but see it tightly clinging on, even here in the boiler room, and realize that even a few moments longer of an embrace are worth the minor pain and singe that come next to it. As I melt back into the place I've formed for so many years now, I see the embers of my furnace burn Heart's clothes severely, as it recoils back, and seats itself at my heart's doorway.

Apple worriedly rushes up and put its arms around it, "Heart! Your outfit's ruined! But, you're... smiling?"

"It would be upset about that right now, but it's just so happy! Thank you all, we reminded the most wonderful witch who she is!" Heart beams in delight as it begins telling the other dolls about me.

I feel myself receding into myself, into a slumber, as I prepare for what comes next. I cannot remain as The Dolls' House forever, but perhaps with their help, we'll be able to build something new.

#dollposting #empty spaces #dollblr #witchposting

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vaefox · 4 months ago

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Strength

Dellivery Class S-260-7 was tasked with delivering an important letter across the battlefield. It had been assigned many parcels between the two regions, but never anything like this. While the conflicts still raged on, diplomats had begun to communicate, and the mail doll was to serve as the emissary to deliver the messages from both sides. S-260-7 however, did not know this at the time. S-260-7 was simply a lowly delivery doll, a tool for the efficiency of transport.

It trudged across the field of operation, keeping the parcel tucked away in its bag, separated off in another sub-pocket of the main compartment away from the other letters. While it didn't know the contents of the letter, it was given a certain level of importance above the others. Letters like these weren't received on a personal basis like most, as they were processed through organizations to be given to their eventual recipient, as opposed to the typical deliveries of missives and packages to families and individuals. S-260-7 knew that if the delicate envelope were breached in any way before its delivery was completed, there would be hell to pay. All the other pieces of mail for delivery were precious and to be protected too, of course, but the procedure was not what was important. Families and individuals usually cared more about receiving their parcels rather than the integrity of what contained them.

As it pressed on further, it heard a series of deep thumps against the ground trailing it. Glancing back, it spotted a bipedal weapon approaching. It watched as the coil array creating what appeared like a mouth arced jagged streaks of energetic plasma across nearby surfaces. An Arges unit, an autonomous close range energy weapon. It picked up its pace as it tried to avoid being caught by the nonselective automaton. The mail doll's legs however were quite small, and it could only carry itself so quickly. It pushed on as quickly as it could as the Arges unit made a trivial effort out of closing distance. S-260-7 doubled over eventually, feeling its momentum take control as it rolled into the mud beneath it. It heard a loud noise behind it as it picked itself back up, and upon looking back, it observed another doll meeting the Arges unit head on. It was a combat doll, which appeared to have tackled the unit, ignoring the electricity arcing about its body. It let loose a punch with its left arm into the array of coils, sending the unit stumbling back. Using the momentary lull, the combat doll turned its head back to look at the mail doll, revealing its crimson eyes, locking with S-260-7's. The mail doll turned away at the sight, shutting its eyelids and carrying itself forward until all was quiet.

Eventually, it reached a place that sounded considerably calmer. When it listened for any noise, it heard nothing. Opening its eyes, it found itself in a clearing illuminated with sunlight diffused through a thick layer of clouds, bathing the environment in a still white light. The orange tone of the falling leaves of the trees were washed out by the ambient white. The path ahead was carved bare to the dry dirt by travel. S-260-7 continued down the path as the silence of the environment left it feeling considerably less panicked than the encounter with the Arges unit.

Eventually, the mail doll reached a round clearing covered in dormant grass and dotted with dried flowers. Sitting in the middle of the clearing, at the base of a solitary tree was a woman. She had healthy fair skin, though mildly stained by soil and blood. More soil and blood painted the loose fitting white dress covering her body, with a tear towards her stomach highlighted by the highest concentration of blood, revealing what appeared to be a long sealed scar underneath. Under her icy blue eyes were dark spots, and from her head hung dark brown hair, unkempt as it messily cascaded onto her shoulders. The woman looked up as S-260-7 as its approach halted.

"Apologies for bringing you here. I felt it was more pleasant than where you were stuck." The woman spoke in a tired voice.

The mail doll placed its hands on the strap of its bag defensively as it took a step back.

The woman flashed a sympathetic expression, "It's okay, you're safe here. Though, you can't be here for long, can you?"

...

I watch S-260-7 twitch as it wakes up, pulled through the panic induced by memory in its dream. This is probably one of the few memories it has. How unfortunate for that memory to be so traumatic. It sits up from its bed, retrieving a sketchbook and a pencil, and proceeds to its desk, where it begins sketching. First, I observe the traces of its pencil strokes, seeing the mail doll create an accurate rendition of the sight of the combat doll glancing back at it, perhaps embellished by the heightened fear I imagine it felt. Once it completes the drawing, it moves onto the next page, where its pencil hovers above the surface of the paper for a few moments. It looks as though the doll had something in mind to draw, but now the image has escaped it.

It stands up once again, applying its uniform, before it looks out the window to find that it is in fact still night time. Being created by the same collective as Soul, I tend to wonder why S-260-7 sleeps, despite almost definitely not needing it. The doll seems to understand this as it proceeds outside its room and quietly up the stairs, to find the opened window which Thread and Soul use to access my roof. As it pokes its head through, it sees Soul's crimson eyes drift to the movement as its head turns to meet the mail doll's gaze. S-260-7 gasps as it tenses up and ducks its head back into the window. It clutches its sketchbook to its chest as it trembles.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Come on up." Soul's voice calls out to the mail doll.

It timidly climbs up and out of the window and onto the roof, seeing Soul lounging casually on the roof under the low light of the moon, and the sliver of orange of the teasing sunrise. In its lap is Thread, laying comfortably across its legs. Soul's cigarette burns a dull orange close to the filter as it stamps out the remains in an ashtray it's brought up to my roof. S-260-7 gingerly sits on the shingles next to Soul, around a meter away.

Soul's gaze turns to the stars for a moment, "You're up early today."

"This doll had a bad dream." The mail doll signs when Soul looks back at it.

Soul gazes on it with sympathy, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There was a combat doll in it. It looked like you. It saved this doll from an autonomous weapon. It seemed like a memory. Even though that doll saved it, it was still afraid." After S-260-7 finishes signing, it opens its sketchbook to the sketch of the combat doll.

Soul takes a long glance at the sketch, "Well, I'm an Operator Class, so I can't exactly take credit for saving you, but you don't need to be afraid. The war is over, and I plan to never fight again. One of the few benefits of being reclassified as a person is that I'm allowed to make that choice."

"You're reclassified as a person?" S-260-7 looks at Soul quizzically.

Soul nods, "The collective figured they were doing me a favor. As a 'reward' for my deeds in the war, I was given financial benefits, and reclassified as a person. That also meant that when I was repaired, I was sent to a human hospital. My right arm wasn't properly repaired. It works, sure, but it isn't even as sturdy as a human arm. I have to be really careful."

The mail doll looks to Soul's right hand, which is gently stroking Thread's hair as it gazes on the stars.

"You don't have a name, do you? Not really a name, I mean. My Witch gave me the name 'Soul' because of the personality they saw in me which wasn't present in their previous dolls." Soul gazes at the mail doll's eyes, "No need for a name if you don't have any running connections though. But, you have those connections now, to all of us. I've seen you teaching Cream and Sugar sign, and you deliver mail. How do you feel about the name Rye?"

The mail doll pauses for a few moments in consideration, before it nods its head.

Soul smiles as its gaze drifts back to the stars, "One of the meanings is messenger. I figured that was appropriate."

With the intense fear dispelled, the mail doll scoots closer to Soul, and closer. Eventually, it leans directly up against the combat doll. In response, Soul gently puts its left arm around it, and the three quietly watch the sun rise, as the dark sky full of stars gives way to the golden light of the sun, and the vibrant blue of the daytime sky, painted by a thin layer of clouds.

#dollposting #empty spaces

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