RavensMuse

This Town of Ours

Location: Vampire Manor

This is a song about a special girl...

The guitar reached a crescendo, the staccato female voice echoing through the lavish bedroom.

Marianne!

A pile of raven hair stirred under the lavish purple comforter.

Of my dark heart!

A ruby lipped smile creeped across the mouth of the woman hiding from the day beneath the soft blankets. One of the few things modern living should be granted. The invention of technology that allows much to be played from a tiny device, and soft blankets. Marianne, smiled to herself as she let the music drift across her bedroom, rousing her to wake.

"I must remember to thank the young one properly for helping me set this device up..." She muttered to herself as the music washed over her.

She groggily pulled the warm blankets away, her pale flesh a stark contrast against the dark purple sheets. She smiled to herself the thoughts of the night before, the musician she'd been aiding had their first official concert. Their opening song, "Marianne" was a nod towards their silent benefactor. She'd been at the show of course, watching silently from the rafters. She'd purchased the album afterwards from the lead musician herself, Miriam. She grinned energetically, still high off the adrenaline of her first show.

"Thank you, so much!" As she thanked Marianne. "Did you like the set?" Marianne nodded, remembering the high she felt after her first showing.

"Yes, it was wonderful. You don't need to thank me, this was your own doing little one." Marianne's lilting speech swirled around the musician's ears, placing her into a daze of adrenaline and endorphins, as the musician cleared the haze around her head. The woman in front of her was now gone. Shaking her head, she chalked it up to a sugar crash. Marianne had already left the event, her work is done. She'd love to take more interest in the event, but the rumor of hunters always had her cautious, she could no longer directly influence artists as she once did. It didn't matter that much to her, the craft, the art of creating was what truly mattered.

A small pinprick of pride over their title track bearing her name didn't hurt either...

As she looked about her room, it held a mixture of notes of her Age of Enlightenment, an easel she'd kept safe across the sea, paints, ancient leatherbound sketchbooks from her time with her mentor, Lucia. A portrait of a blonde woman stood in the corner. The soft white skin carefully contrasted against the bright crimson accents of her dress. "This will be the next piece I move," Marianne thought to herself.

Feeling the beast inside her starting to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness, it was time to join the others. Opening her dresser, she drew forth a simple dark green dress. Slipping it over herself, she exited her bedroom. The manor was a lovely place, the accents and artwork she'd placed around the manor gave it a little more style. The young one loved to put the modern accouterments, most she was unsure of or completely understood. Yet he was always patient, and helped teach her about some aspects of modern society. In exchange, she told him tales of the old world.

As she silently crept into the kitchen on bare feet, she heard the sounds of the modern world echo and pulse around her. Television, a fascinating thing, yet she never quite understood the mortal fascination with it. She opened the fridge, and withdrew a blood pack from the supply. She rummaged through the drawer beside the for one of the "flavored coffee packets" Kyle had introduced her to. She quickly poured a portion of the blood pack and the brownish orange powder into the mug. She placed the concoction into the microwave, and read the note to the side of the microwave Kyle had nicely left for her as a reminder. She pressed the correct buttons to warm the liquid and dissolve the powder. A cheerful beep alerted her the beverage was ready. Drawing the mug from the microwave, she took a small sip of the dark red liquid. The robust blood, with the cinnamon and dark bitter coffee made her smile as she walked to the living room. Kyle, was stretched out watching some odd program, she never quite understood the shows he watched. She still tried none-the-less.

"Good evening young, I mean Kyle." She corrected herself, "I got you an extra copy of Darkhearts album from their show last night, I was hoping you could help me set it up so I can listen to it on my ipod today." She asked quietly, she had lived through three different revolutions, survived the bombing of her villa, and still has difficulties synching her music to her portable music device. "I will be moving another painting soon, the same auction house of course. If you could assist me with that today, I'd be grateful.." She took another pull of the coffee blood mixture.

The modern world still has it's curiosities, technology happened to not be her strong suit.

This Town of Ours

"Every vampire has to choose how they survive the darkness. Me? I made it fear me."

Name: Marianne Scabbi

Age:600 (Turned at 25)

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Nationality: Italian

Personality: Marianne has seen the heights of humanity's goodness, and how low they've sunk as a result. As of late, she's chosen to keep beyond the edges of influence. Often preferring to keep to her studio, recording, painting, writing, choosing to create beauty instead of indulging in the petty acts of humanity just outside her door. She believes humanity can be helped, and tries to aid from the shadows whenever possible.

She's been alive long enough, she has grown wary of humanity as a majority. She will play the humble artist, and talk about whatever this era's idea of beauty turns out to be. Yet there are tiny slivers of interest, other artists who have proven their dedication to the craft resulted in her fascination. To those artists, she is a kind guiding hand, helping influence to those she feels can benefit from her experience.

She often chooses to listen, before speaking her mind. Lately, she has taken to listening to the stories of humanity. She is often found in bars, coffee shops, galleries. Quietly listening, looking for something she isn't always sure of herself until she finds the right muse.

Maybe just something that makes her feel alive once again...

Equipment: A set of weighted throwing knives. Her sketchbook. A 1988 Harley Softail, with a full set of sun protected leathers.
Her studio is full of art from years of painting, whenever she needs money she releases one into the markets. She loves to see each piece on a new wall in the world, to let others take in the beauty she spent so long to create.

Appearance: Marianne has long raven dark curly hair that she often draws back in some form of a braid. If she's going to a gallery showing, she prefers to keep it hanging long and free. Her face is angular, sharp pronounced cheekbones, and green eyes that almost seem to shimmer if you stare into them for too long.

Fashion choices, Marianne is a lover of her black angel winged duster. Otherwise she prefers to dress in whatever is fashionable for the era. Often choosing leather, black skirts, dresses with fun patterns painted on them, or just tshirt and jeans if she's lurking at a coffee shop. Tattoos of greek muses run along her arms, stylized with inks, paints, and even digital pixels. Her back has one large tattoo across her shoulderblades, a jet black wolf that almost seems to be standing defiant against the sunrise.

Other:

History: Marianne was born during the Renaissance, in Italy. Thus, she was exposed to the wonders and beauty of her time. She found herself in love with art, modelling, studying how the great masters went about creating such amazing works. As a woman in that era, she was never destined to become a master herself. Yet she refused to believe her gender should not dissuade her desire. So she continued her search for someone to help her desire to become an artist worthy of her peers.

Eventually, word came to her about a mentor who agreed to teach her. Marianne was elated, travelling to the mansion of the artist left her with nerves that almost jangled and clashed more then her cart. Arriving to the large mansion, Marianne noted most of the windows were shuttered even during the day. Maybe he liked to paint with his own light instead of the sun?

A woman answered the door, Marianne introduced herself and asked if her master was available. The woman, who later introduced herself as Lucia explained that she simply used her last name to sign her works and sells through her patron in town. Marianne was stunned, a woman who not only painted, but had a talent she'd never seen before. She apologized profusely about the mistake and requested to apprentice under the woman.

Lucia invited her into her home, and the apprenticeship began. Often Marianne wondered why she primarily painted at night, or her fascination with the many deep reds that accentuated Lucia's palette. Yet she continued through the years to study, paint, and even create portraits of several well known patrons of her very own!

Then she got sick...

Constrained to her bed in Lucia's home, she grew weaker by the day. Lucia tended to her as best she could, but Marianne knew her time was coming to and end. Yet, there was so much more she could paint, she had to, she needed to! Her struggles reached something in Lucia, who after a great amount of consideration had brought an offer to Marianne.

She could die, and pass on. She would be loved, and remembered fondly.

She could live forever, and vanish into the shadows of time and obscurity. As a vampire.

That was the night Marianne died, and changed forever. She had no regrets about her choice, art was everything to her, and now she could continue to paint! She found her new body stronger, faster, even the colors seemed to radiate brighter then before! As time passed, Marianne felt her desire to adventure to new worlds, and find new subjects could not be resisted.

Bidding a fond farewell to Lucia, Marianne arrived in the new world...

Afterwards, the tale of the artist who's work transcended time began to resurface. Each time a piece appeared, critics just assumed it was another who followed in Marianne's stylistic choices and heralded it as another amazing piece of art. Yet the same raven haired woman, with subtle changes to her style humbly accepted the praise at each showing.

This Town of Ours

"Every vampire has to choose how they survive the darkness. Me? I made it fear me."

Name: Marianne Scabbi

Age:600 (Turned at 25)

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Nationality: Italian

Personality: Marianne has seen the heights of humanity's goodness, and how low they've sunk as a result. As of late, she's chosen to keep beyond the edges of influence. Often preferring to keep to her studio, recording, painting, writing, choosing to create beauty instead of indulging in the petty acts of humanity just outside her door. She believes humanity can be helped, and tries to aid from the shadows whenever possible.

She's been alive long enough, she has grown wary of humanity as a majority. She will play the humble artist, and talk about whatever this era's idea of beauty turns out to be. Yet there are tiny slivers of interest, other artists who have proven their dedication to the craft resulted in her fascination. To those artists, she is a kind guiding hand, helping influence to those she feels can benefit from her experience.

She often chooses to listen, before speaking her mind. Lately, she has taken to listening to the stories of humanity. She is often found in bars, coffee shops, galleries. Quietly listening, looking for something she isn't always sure of herself until she finds the right muse.

Maybe just something that makes her feel alive once again...

Equipment: A set of weighted throwing knives. Her sketchbook. A 1988 Harley Softail, with a full set of sun protected leathers.
Her studio is full of art from years of painting, whenever she needs money she releases one into the markets. She loves to see each piece on a new wall in the world, to let others take in the beauty she spent so long to create.

Appearance: Marianne has long raven dark curly hair that she often draws back in some form of a braid. If she's going to a gallery showing, she prefers to keep it hanging long and free. Her face is angular, sharp pronounced cheekbones, and green eyes that almost seem to shimmer if you stare into them for too long.

Fashion choices, Marianne is a lover of her black angel winged duster. Otherwise she prefers to dress in whatever is fashionable for the era. Often choosing leather, black skirts, dresses with fun patterns painted on them, or just tshirt and jeans if she's lurking at a coffee shop. Tattoos of greek muses run along her arms, stylized with inks, paints, and even digital pixels. Her back has one large tattoo across her shoulderblades, a jet black wolf that almost seems to be standing defiant against the sunrise.

Other:

History: Marianne was born during the Renaissance, in Italy. Thus, she was exposed to the wonders and beauty of her time. She found herself in love with art, modelling, studying how the great masters went about creating such amazing works. As a woman in that era, she was never destined to become a master herself. Yet she refused to believe her gender should not dissuade her desire. So she continued her search for someone to help her desire to become an artist worthy of her peers.

Eventually, word came to her about a mentor who agreed to teach her. Marianne was elated, travelling to the mansion of the artist left her with nerves that almost jangled and clashed more then her cart. Arriving to the large mansion, Marianne noted most of the windows were shuttered even during the day. Maybe he liked to paint with his own light instead of the sun?

A woman answered the door, Marianne introduced herself and asked if her master was available. The woman, who later introduced herself as Lucia explained that she simply used her last name to sign her works and sells through her patron in town. Marianne was stunned, a woman who not only painted, but had a talent she'd never seen before. She apologized profusely about the mistake and requested to apprentice under the woman.

Lucia invited her into her home, and the apprenticeship began. Often Marianne wondered why she primarily painted at night, or her fascination with the many deep reds that accentuated Lucia's palette. Yet she continued through the years to study, paint, and even create portraits of several well known patrons of her very own!

Then she got sick...

Constrained to her bed in Lucia's home, she grew weaker by the day. Lucia tended to her as best she could, but Marianne knew her time was coming to and end. Yet, there was so much more she could paint, she had to, she needed to! Her struggles reached something in Lucia, who after a great amount of consideration had brought an offer to Marianne.

She could die, and pass on. She would be loved, and remembered fondly.

She could live forever, and vanish into the shadows of time and obscurity. As a vampire.

That was the night Marianne died, and changed forever. She had no regrets about her choice, art was everything to her, and now she could continue to paint! She found her new body stronger, faster, even the colors seemed to radiate brighter then before! As time passed, Marianne felt her desire to adventure to new worlds, and find new subjects could not be resisted.

Bidding a fond farewell to Lucia, Marianne arrived in the new world...

Afterwards, the tale of the artist who's work transcended time began to resurface. Each time a piece appeared, critics just assumed it was another who followed in Marianne's stylistic choices and heralded it as another amazing piece of art. Yet the same raven haired woman, with subtle changes to her style humbly accepted the praise at each showing.

This Town of Ours

Happily. I'll get a CS up tomorrow morning for you :). Thank you

This Town of Ours

Hey Metronome, still looking for more?

🎀 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓻 . 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 . 𝓚𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 . 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 . (a steampunk RP of petticoats, poison, and propriety)

This is a story of the Sad Dollmaker...

A girl stepped quietly through the busy crowds of Gearsport. Though merchants bustling with many amazing toys, and inventions designed to wonder and amaze. Her pink hair hung in a pair of heavy curls on each side of her head, her heavy blast goggles, blackened lenses reflecting those who look curiously at the young woman seeing only their own confusion staring back at them.

She was Reeza, the Lady of Puppets. One of the more notable figures in Gearsport, for both her puppets and her mechanical dolls. Her shop was one of the more mysterious locations in Gearsport. Often drawing visitors just to say they've met the mysterious Lady. Yet, for those who came into the shop seeking the perfect gift for their little one, or a sweetheart. Reeza made sure they left with the perfect new friend. Speaking of friends...

A strange mechanical doll named Lorelei, trailed behind Reeza, carrying a heavy felt bag made of the most wonderful red velvet. The doll's porcelain white skin was a stark contrast to the beautiful black petticoat she was draped in. Her black eyes, a copy of the blast goggles worn by it's owner gave the same uncomfortable gaze to onlookers.

Well, to most onlookers...

A young girl spied Reeza, and recognizing the mechanical doll and pink hair rushed away from her parents to meet the dollmaker. She tugged on the petticoat of the inventor, who nearly jumped out of her skin at the distraction. As Reeza yelped, Lorelei reached for the young girl, assuming her mistress' command meant she was in danger. Reeza, realizing that it was just a little girl shushed Lorelei to force the doll to return to it's standing position. The little girl, still awestruck by meeting Reeza, babbled on about how her dolls were the prettiest and when she gets her allowance, her mummy promised they'd go to the Puppets string and pick out a doll for herself. Reeza looked curiously at the child as her parents placed themselves between her and their child.

"We...we're sorry Lady Reeza, she likes to talk to strangers. We...we promised her a doll from your shop when we had the money." The mother said nothing, just stared at Reeza. Reeza, looked past the parents to the little one.

"Does she have a doll," the little girl shook her head.

"Mummy promised she'd get me one of yours..." Reeza looked at the parents, their clothing did not look well tailored, and in dire need of repair. Yet they're willing to pay her prices for one of her dolls?

"Why my dolls?" Reeza asked softly. The girl looked towards her parents before she responded.

"You always talk about dolls bein' something more. They're friends, secret holders, and be your guardian," the girl replied nervously. Reeza's ruby red lips creased at the edges a little, hearing of how she thinks of her creations coming from another. She turned towards Lorelei, opening the red velvet bag.

"That's right," she replied, "a girl's dolly is something special..." She continued to search through the bag before holding something behind her back. "You should always treasure your dolly," She bent forwards, keeping her hands behind her back. The young girl's reflection stared back at her though the goggles. Reeza revealed her surprise, a small brunette doll with a pretty red and white dress for the child. She gingerly took the doll from Reeza, like it was an illusion and may blow away with the slightest gust of wind. As she realized the doll was not going to fall apart, she shrieked in joy at her new friend. Reeza smiled softly, her satisfaction at a perfect pairing. "Please see me if she needs any work."

The father looked at Reeza, who returned to securing the bag held by Lorlei. "Umm we always said we'd get her one once we had the money, just the airship transport ain't paying what it used to." As he stammered for excuses, he realized the dollmaker was barely paying attention to him. "I can pay you, just name it, I can bring by a little each time."

Reeza looked one more time at the young girl who was hugging her new doll and showing the gift off to her mother. Her voice didn't have the same warmth it held for the child, she also slightly bowed her head at the man. It was an odd gesture to the man, considering she was one of the more notable figures in Gearsport. "Please, just make sure she's happy." With that, Reeza continued her walk towards her destination without another word. The father looked at the pink haired dollmaker, trying to figure out if he meant the doll, or his daughter...

Reeza and Lorelei continued to their intended destination. A large building that had seen many better days, the sign had a single faded word overtop the rotten wooden doors.

Orphanage

Reeza felt her anxiety begin creeping along the small of her back, like little icy pinpricks of a needle. She looked to Lorelei, "please knock." The doll raised a lace covered hand, rapping three methodical thumps upon the door. There was hushed lull as an older woman answered the door.

"Lady Valarios, I thought you said you weren't able to finish the order until next week." Matron Desma's voice crackled, like splintering wood. She was a kindly old woman, but she was holding the entire orphanage together with donations and sheer willpower. The years were catching up with her.

"Lorelei, please give Matron Desma the bag." Reeza's voice was hushed as she took a step back to allow Lorelei the proper space to present the bag to the elderly Matron. She nearly toppled over from the weight of the bag, a massive whoosh emitted from the bag as it fell to the ground. Looking inside, "there are many more dolls in here...I can't pay you for the additional ones you know." She muttered sheepishly to the pink haired woman.

Reeza looked at the barren halls inside the orphanage, it took all her resolve to not pivot heel and leave right now. "I ordered too much fabric, and I heard from one of the bakers that they've had issues supplying the extra mouths that you recently ended up with. I assume some of them need comfort." Reeza didn't have the courage to let the Matron know she'd also payed the Orphanage's tab with her most recent visit to the same baker. She'd let the Matron discover this on her next visit...

The elderly woman laughed softly, "I know you could tell me the exact amount of fabric that goes into each doll. Probably the amount of thread and stuffing as well, please don't lie to an old woman like that."

Reeza shuffled her feet back and forth as she sheepishly rubbed a lace covered hand. "I...I don't want any of them who need a doll to not have one." The Matron smiled, as she gestured inside.

"They'd love to meet you," Reeza shook her head as she instinctively took a step back.

"Sorry Matron, I have to return to my shop. I have a project underway and I can't let the cores sit for too long." Sure, the cores of her dolls were what powered them, but they were fine to sit for eons before they became a problem. It was a lie, the orphanage was a sad time for Reeza and she did..couldn't return to those halls.

The Matron nodded, "just don't be a stranger. I'll let the children choose their own dolls as you like." Reeza smiled, just a little as she curtsied to the Matron before departing.

As the pair returned through Gearsport to her shop, "The Puppet's Strings." She felt her body begin to relax, this was sanctuary, her home. She unlocked the heavy door, complete with her own pressure pad to ensure that if anyone got her key, they'd still need to know about the little trick to her lock. Stepping inside, Reeza let her shoulders slump and she fell into the oversized chair before she opened her eyes to her shop.

There was hundreds of puppets, dolls, and mechanical creatures of varying sizes and designs. She whispered softly, "I'm home." With that, the world sprang to life. The marionette's began to dance in a lazy circle, her mechanical dolls designed for tea, or dress up, or a dozen other activities began to take on their own life as the routines began. Turning to Lorelei, Reeza issued her next request, "Please go to your charging station." Lorelei nodded before heading to the charging pad in the back of the artisan's shop.

Reeza picked up one particular doll, often kept just out of eyesight of everyone else. Yet it was always in her reach. It was a cobbled together doll made from a variety of fabric scraps. Her first doll, after the accident. She let her fingers trail over the scratchy fabric, noting every stitch, every crease. It made this doll unique, one in a field of many. Yet if it wasn't for these little dolls, she wouldn't have any of her new life. Her Uncle and Aunt found her, gave her schooling, taught her about her gifts, and even helped get the Puppet Strings started.

All from a simple doll...

A knock at the door startled Reeza from her memories. Quickly standing from the chair, she straightened out her dress and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. Oh wait, did she sleep in this dress by accident? Scolding herself, Reeza tried to make a note not to do that again. Maybe a doll to remind her about proper night time attire? The knock at the door snapped her out of this set of questions. Reeza quickly opened the door to a messenger who looked nervously at the young woman inside. "Message for Ms Valarious," he handed her the letter as a feline shaped machine slowly drew itself out of the shadows. The tail made a strange whooosh sound as it looked upon the guest. "Umm Maam, there is something wrong with your cat?"

Reeza looked behind as she saw one of her projects, "Shattered Claw" and it's barbed tail looking ready to lash out at the trembling boy. "Oh, sorry. He doesn't like visitors after hours." He looked nervously at the barbed tail as it made another whooshing sound. "Be nice please." The dollmaker spoke curtly to the creature. It's tail slowed, and looked towards it's Mistress for it's next request. "Sorry," she gave a handful of coins to the messenger before closing the heavy door.

Reeza quickly opened the parchment, it was official, an invite to a masquerade ball? Reeza was really not good at these types of events. How could she wear a mask with her goggles, she nervously chewed her lip as she walked to the crafting room she designated at the back of the shop. She pulled her heavy blast goggles off, her green eyes squinting as she adjusted to a normal level of light once again. She looked at her reflection in a mirror she often used to check inside her inventions to make sure everything lined up. She saw her shockingly bright pink locks, a result of her nervousness at the Madame's School. Thankfully, one girl there defended her, she even made Reeza feel a little better about herself that day...

She still hated meeting anyone's gaze, and the goggles always solved that. Looking at Lorelei, and the porcelain face she'd crafted to hide the mechanical creature underneath.

Wait...the dolls face!

Reeza grinned as she ran to her parts cabinet, throwing open the heavy soot-stained doors she began to sort through drawers. She muttered to herself as she found a pair of shiny black lenses! Going to her project wall, she drew forth a lovely porcelain mask she'd created for another doll, but it wasn't quite right for her. Yet with a little red paint...maybe...some gold filigree, some black paint...

As Reeza exited the carriage, with Lorelei in tow. She carefully adjusted the new mask covering her face. The dolls mask she'd fastened with black lace around the back of her pink hair, and the black lenses placed overtop the mask helped her feel a bit more at ease. Lorelei stood patiently at her side, wearing an imitation of the dress Reeza had chosen for the evening. The corset was always so tricky to put on, but Madame would be so upset if she didn't dress properly for the occasion. A burnished brown corset, and a bright white blouse underneath, with these neat little sleeves that hung loose around her arms. She chose a long flowing brown skirt to finish her outfit, with a beautiful white trim around the bottom that trailed behind her. When the light hit the skirt just right, silvery gold brocade glowed against the light. Reeza carefully palmed a springrazor she kept hidden within the hem of her skirt, she trusted her host, just wasn't sure why the Captain would be interested in her...

As she stepped to the door, the guard looked at the woman and her doll. "Is this your guest?" He asked teasingly.

Reeza looked toward the man, unsure of the shared laughter between them. "Yes, she's my guest." The man looked a little stunned for a moment before letting her pass. The pair shared an uneasy glance between eachother. The Lady of Puppets carried many stigmas, and one more frightening is the doll that followed her.

A well dressed man gestured to the pair, "Lady Valarios," he proceeded to lead the dollmaker to the main hall of the party.

As Reeza quietly checked the lace straps on her mask for the seventeenth time since she stepped from the cab. She caught Lorelei looking at her curiously. "I know, I know, but it makes me feel better.." She chided the doll. As she stepped into the main hall, the booming voice of the man who lead her here echoed over her.

"Lady of Puppets, Reeza Valarios," Reeza felt her blood run cold as her hopes of being invisible for this event evaporated. She was ready to leave the hall as she felt Lorelei's metallic grasp on her arm. It reassured her, even calmed her down, steadied her. Her dolls always did that. She curtsied to the guests and quickly blended into the crowd, well aware that underneath the porcelain dolls mask, adorned with ruby lips and green eyes, Reeza herself was blushing red with embarrassment.

As she looked about nervously, she pulled out the invitation to review the details. Library, yes, the library! It would probably be less crowded in the library, tapping Lorelei on her shoulder, triggering the dolls follow function. The pair slowly waded through the crowd of bodies towards the library. As she crept into the massive library, her curiosity at the endless rows of books nearly distracted her from her actual purpose. Reeza noted many others were already in the library, were they part of the letter too? Reeza quickly stepped across the floor to the others before bowing her head to the others.

She noted at least two people she could recognize, Lady Alyssana is most definitely one of the guests. Mainly through the beautiful clockwork wings, the inspiration for Lorelei's own defensive measures. She was the student who defended her after her, well, newly acquired hair color. The young man was another notable figure to her. She had many wonderful conversations with his father, Hermes, Arsenio was always a welcome guest in the Puppet Strings. She bowed her head to the others, before she cautiously spoke, each word almost painfully chosen.

"Good evening, Lady Alyssana, Mister Arsenio," she tried to recognize any others in the room, and realized she honestly was having difficulties grasping names, "Honored guests, I assume we are all here with mention of the library?" The dollmaker asked curiously.

Just a normal high school?

Shy artist girl

Glades Fall High School

I purposefully left open who he was talking to. At the moment I couldn't think of anyone, in particular, to have him ask so I put it like that so if someone wanted to they could be the one to answer his question, but I'm perfectly fine with it being some random.

@alexfangtalon

I can step up if you like!

Just a normal high school?

Sure, I'll check in

🎀 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓻 . 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 . 𝓚𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 . 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 . (a steampunk RP of petticoats, poison, and propriety)

Reeza Valarios

🎀𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮
――――――――――
Lady Reeza Valarios

🎀𝓣𝓲𝓽𝓵𝓮
――――――――――
"The Lady of Puppets"

🎀𝓐𝓰𝓮
――――――――――
25

🎀𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻
――――――――――
Female

🎀𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮
――――――――――
One of the most notable features of Reeza is her pink hair, it used to be a strawberry blonde until she messed up a lab. After the comments of another student inspired a little confidence in herself, Reeza sorta likes the color now. Often tries to hide her horrible ability to meet anyone's gaze by keeping a pair of blast goggles over her eyes, and fidgeting constantly if she's not near her dolls. She used to be comfortable with whatever dress she could find and afford. Her time at Madame Geraldine's has forced her to try and be more presentable in her appearance. Even if sometimes she seems to be quite unsure of anything resembling proper fashion for a Lady.

🎀𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵
――――――――――
Madame Geraldine's Finishing School for Young Ladies of Quality

🎀𝓖𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭
――――――――――
The Craftsmen Guild, mainly because nobody dares enter her shop to tell her otherwise....

🎀𝓖𝓲𝓯𝓽s
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Reeza has a talent for speaking to her mechanical "friends" and requesting favors of them...
She is also talented at creating many different mechanical creatures, both humanoid and not, she's careful to keep them doll sized to ensure nobody thinks she's creating anything wrong.
There are rumors that she has also created a new series of creatures that she's dubbed, "Her best friends" mechanical creatures capable of much more then just looking pretty.

🎀𝓞𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷
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Owner of the "Puppet Strings" gadget shop in Gearsport. A toy shop full of children's toys, dolls, and other mechanical friends who seem to dance about with a life of their own.

🎀𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂
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Reeza is often cautious around others, unsure of how to act around people. How are you supposed to talk to real people? She's just so used to talking to her mechanical creatures. When she's interacting with people, Reeza tends to overthink, analyze and choose her words carefully before speaking.

🎀𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶?
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To utilize her puppets, or potentially weapon design.

🎀𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓷
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Reeza refuses to fight hand to hand. She has a few small inventions she can throw at those who threaten her. Her true skill lies in her mechanical friends, false-life steam-powered creations capable of battle. They appear to be alive, yet in reality, they are being commanded by Reeza through her gifts.

🎀𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓜𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷
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Spring-razors, small bundles of sharp objects with a core designed to eject the blades forward when thrown.
She prefers to call her metal dolls to do battle for her instead.

🎀𝓕𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼(𝓮𝓼) 𝓪𝓽 𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵
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Mechanical monstrosities, Literature and Lace, and Alchemical implementations in steam-powered machines

🎀𝓑𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂
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There is a story, whispered about the strange puppet shop in Gearspot, and the strange girl who runs the store. That if you go in there with wonderment in your heart, the young woman in the shop will find you your new best friend.

For those who enter her grounds with malice, beware....you will become one of her newest dolls before long.

Of course these are just tall tales swapped among those who've walked past the strange animated little shop and dared not step inside.

The rest of the stories talk about a young woman who lost her parents in an Airship accident. A young girl who's mother taught her daughter the art of dollmaking. When the young girl was found, she somehow shielded herself with a dancing machine intended to amuse the children. They all believed the machine must have tumbled over the frightened child in the descent and protected her through pure dumb luck.

It wasn't, simply the dawn of Reeza's gift.

The orphanage was cold, lonely, and Reeza didn't have her favorite doll to comfort her. It was the first one she made with her mother. It was special, and soft, and it made her feel better...

Reeza eventually was able to scrape together enough cloth to make another doll, and things were good again!

She noticed many other children looked sad, and missed their dolls too. So Reeza set about scavenging materials to make them dolls too. Eventually, some of these children were adopted and took their dolls with them. This was a stroke of luck, as one of Reeza's relatives recognized the stitchwork as familiar! They set about at once to find their long lost niece!

Meanwhile, Reeza was gathering material through Gearsport to create more dolls for another orphan who'd recently arrived when she'd run into trouble. Two large men approached Reeza with something, bad, in their eyes. Like dolls eyes that were all scratched up. As she dropped her cloth scraps and ran, Reeza tripped as she turned a corner. The first man was almost upon her when Reeza screamed for help.

The sound of scraping metal echoed as a motorized arm, intended to hold a pair of wings in place smashed through the window and grabbed the first man! He screamed, cursing bloody murder as the motorized claw tore at him. The other man looked at the little pink-haired girl and his associate now trapped in the clamp, and decided it wasn't worth it.

Reeza sat quietly as the claw released the man, he tumbled to the ground with a solid plop, before running as well. Reeza looked at the claw curiously, it seemed to stare back her. She thanked it, the claw gave a small wiggle before returing to it's original position.

As she returned to the orphanage, a man and woman she vaguely recognized were at the gate. The matron pointed towards Reeza, who stared at the pair, fat tears welling up in her eyes. For the first time since the accident, Reeza cried, for her parents, for her dolls, for everything that happened.

Her adopted relatives took no time in helping Reeza understand her gifts, and how she can utilize them properly. Madame Geraldine's School was the best opportunity for her! So that's where she was going to go!

Upon acceptance to the Madame's School, Reeza learned quickly that she was a small fish in a very large pond. The other girls were much harder to understand in relation to her puppets, they were safe, these girls were...not easy to follow. Often resulting in Reeza choosing to read alone, or work on another series of her fabled Dolls. Yet many of those in Madamne's halls took to helping Reeza adjust to school life, and occasionally even talking about herself! She found herself drawn to the machine classes, robotics, animatronics, she could improve her dollmaking skills ten-fold!

While others used their ability to speak with machines for flight or other things. Reeza created puppets and dolls to speak with, as they can't leave her like her parents did. She eventually discovered her talent for creation of these mechanical dolls and puppets were a joy to many throughout the guild. She often brought her extra merchandise to the orphanage to the children who needed friends the most.

The story of the quiet dollmaker eventually brought those who envied her, how dare she intrude on their craft. They met her personal dolls, Broken Wings, and Shattered Claw. They left the store quite quickly afterwards...

Reeza is often seen throughout Gearsport, often with her favorite creation behind her, Lorelei, who seems to react to Reeza's requests as if she's almost alive...

Yet Reeza knows it's just a false-life, and a lot of complex machinations under the surface.

Yet it does the job of her dolls, to bring comfort...

🎀𝓞𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻
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Carries at least one of her mechanical dolls at all times, or being escorted by an animated puppet. Each one of these "puppets" can sustain their false-life for approximately thirty minutes of intensive activity before needing to recharge.