Imagine meeting someone so unbelievably beautiful that your first thought is what a wonderful doll they would make.
Someone who often wears many layers, hiding their skin. Someone with perfect hair, lovely glossy lips, cold, cold hands.
Imagine you become dear friends with them, even showing them your doll collection and ramble on about how much they mean to you, how perfect you find them. You tell this person how you've spoiled each one of them, given them new faces and homes, sewn clothes just for them. You joke how you could sew this person some, too, with as fashionable as they are.
As you go on about your dolls, this friend browses your shelves - trailing their gloved hand across an empty spot between two of your proudest creations. The way they move, like they may need help putting their joints back into place, it just might kill you. It shouldn't be so darling how inanimate they are.
You tell this someone you find them angelic, too, just as unfathomably beautiful as your dolls. It's the first time you've felt this way about anyone, like you could give them the world too.
Imagine this someone smiling softly, looking as though they wished they were one in your collection. You can almost feel their perfect, almost varnished eyes staring holes into your skin. God above, why can't they speak more than this?
Imagine them stepping slowly closer, and placing a gloved hand on your shoulder, the other reaching to gently trail their thumb across your lips.
They carefully lean back for a moment to remove the glove, chiffon with a lace finish, to reveal smooth, porcelain fingertips. They've been well taken care of, colored to perfection, and cold to the touch.
You realize, with a start, that your dear friend is a jointed doll.
They tilt their head at you, just how you would tilt your dolls, and softly tell you that you may touch their skin.
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was looking something up and got absolutely obliterated by
dulcinea knows that isn't the real camilla. even before it got its face blasted off, that was an empty puppet. but she's fucking PETTING her okay it's fine i'm fine we're good i'm normal about them. but no really if i see anyone try to claim that dulcie and pal is the only romantic side of that triangle i'm going to beat you over the head with both this paragraph and the "will she know who we are" exchange
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