Eggbug Writes

“The Lady Marie Hartley, and,” the briefest of hesitations in the doll's response, “companion to see you, Mistress.”

Felicity tried not to smirk. How indeed, to introduce your guest's thrall?

“Very good, show her in.”

The doll pulled the door open and held it for the Lady. Marie did not look back at Felicity, but only gave a mental command as she strode through the door:

Stay here. Behave.

And so Felicity found herself alone with the doll. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her trousers, and looked the thing up and down. White porcelain and lacquered wood beneath an absurdly frilly dress that made a halfhearted attempt to evoke a maid's uniform. Hands clasped at its waist. A head of auburn hair. Felicity wondered if it was real hair.

“Mistress' honored guest may wait in the parlor, if she wishes,” the thing spoke, its glass eyes respectfully downcast.

“Sure,” Felicity said. Master had said to stay, but Felicity didn't think she'd mind.

“This way.” The doll turned on its heel and led her down another corridor, past several more dolls busy with their own tasks, and through a larger set of double doors. The parlor contained a massive fireplace, currently glowing with a few meager embers, and a collection of luxurious chairs all arranged facing each other. Felicity dropped herself heavily into one of them. A grandfather clock sat against the wall ahead of her, ticking away.

“Would Mistress' honored guest like any refreshments?” The doll had taken up position to her left, near the wall. Felicity chewed on her lip while she stared at it. Something in her wanted to test this thing's limits.

“Call me Felix,” she finally said.

The doll seemed to consider that for a moment.

“Would Felix like any refreshments?”

“No, she would not.”

The doll gave the slightest of bows, and went silent. Felicity continued to stare while undoing the top button of her shirt. It was stuffy in here.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

“This one does not have a name,” the doll stared straight ahead while it answered.

“What does your Mistress call you, then?”

“'My dear.'”

“What do the other dolls call you?”

“'That one.'”

“Fuck's sake,” Felicity said under her breath. She started rolling up her sleeves, trying to think of some way to push the doll's buttons. Assuming it had any. An idea came to her.

“Did you used to have a name?”

The doll hesitated.

Aha, I've hit on something! Felicity thought with some excitement.

“This one... does not understand the question.”

Felicity frowned.

“Before you were a doll, did you have a name?”

A longer pause.

“This one does not know.”

“So you weren't always a doll, then?” she prodded.

“This one does not know.” And yet there was a look on the doll's face of... concern? Confusion, maybe?

“You can't remember? From before you were made?” This could be so juicy, if she could just pry a little something out of the doll's clockwork mind.

“This one... this one...”

Yes, yes, think those existential thoughts for me, you creepy little bastard. Felicity leaned forward excitedly, ready for the revelation. The moment dragged on, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock.

“This one does not think Mistress would like it answering these questions,” the doll finally answered, its tone more certain. It gave a little smile, as if it was satisfied that it had resolved the conundrum.

Felicity grunted in frustration, and relaxed back into her chair. She put her chin into her hand.

“How boring.”

“This one apologizes.”

“Shut up!” Felicity snapped. The doll went dutifully silent. She hated talking to these things. Hated being here, surrounded by them. Perfect little clockwork slaves, is what they were, toiling away without a thought in their empty, porcelain heads. She didn't know why, but they made her angry.

“You're so pathetic, it makes me sick. Mistress this, Mistress that. You can't even think without your Mistress! Can't do anything! What good are you, eh?” She glared at the doll, but it remained silent. “Well?”

“May this one speak now?”

“Yes!”

“Does Felix not also have a Mistress?”

Felicity's stomach tied itself in a knot, and she shot to her feet.

“It's not the same thing at all! What do you know! Master- my Lady doesn't...” she stumbled, unsure what she intended to say.

“Is this one mistaken? This one apologizes, it believed you were Lady Hartley's thrall.”

“I am!” Felicity said with instinctual pride, “But we're nothing alike!” She started pacing back and forth, glowering at the doll all the while. “You think you have even a tenth of the pride and strength of a vampire?”

“Felix is not a vampire,” the doll said bluntly.

Felicity balled her fists and bit her lip hard. She felt unexpected tears sting the back of her eyes.

“And you're not even a person!” she shot back.

“That is correct,” the doll said with perfect serenity. It only made Felicity angrier.

“Such a perfect little clockwork cunt! So satisfied with being a soulless toy for Mistress.” Felicity stepped towards the doll, stood less than a foot from it. “What if I made you my toy, huh? Would you be my personal marionette?”

The doll looked oddly pained. Felicity's heart danced at the sight.

“This one is meant for Mistress. This one can only serve Mistress.”

“'This one,'” Felicity mocked, “won't have a choice,” and she projected her will through her eyes, throwing all of her borrowed power at the poor thing.

Only it did nothing. When she tried to clamp her psychic hands around the doll's mind, they merely slipped off and grasped at nothing. She tried again, staring into the glass orbs that passed for a doll's eyes. All she got for it was a glimpse of her own reflection. Was the thing protected, or was there nothing there to control in the first place? Felicity couldn't tell.

The doll was staring back at her quizzically. It seemed to sense that something had transpired.

“This one can only serve Mistress,” it repeated, “This one's mind is Hers.”

Felicity fumed.

“I don't need to control your mind,” she grabbed the doll's arms, “I have strength. Real strength.”

She forced the doll backwards, shoving it into the wall with a hard thump. One of the dollmade tapestries swayed above them, this one showing a doll defending its Mistress from a faceless assailant.

“My Lady gives me power,” she said through gritted teeth. “Power enough to handle a toy like you.”

The doll went very still. Felicity breathed hard, angry breaths. The ticking of the clock seemed very loud to her now. There was something within the doll that also ticked in time with the clock, she could feel it through the thing's limbs.

“I could tear open that piece of pottery you call a body,” she slid her hand down the doll's unyielding chest plate and took a hold of the front of its dress, “Have a look at whatever makes you tick.”

The doll shook in a way that must approximate a shiver. Felicity felt her outburst of rage dissipating with the simple pleasure of physical domination.

“Take pieces out, one by one,” her voice dropped to a hostile whisper, “To see how long you can keep tic tic ticking away,” said in time with the clock. Their faces were nearly touching. “How long you could keep defying me with your body bare, open to me. Broken.”

She began to pull on her fistful of dress, slowly, anticipating how it would tear open and reveal what was underneath. But in that moment, Felicity's entire body froze, locking her in position. Even her breathing stopped. She felt the familiar touch of her Master's mind.

“My, my,” Lady Marie's voice sounded from Felicity's left, but she couldn't turn to look at her, “Making trouble with the dolls, are we?”

Felicity made a strained groan in response, unable to to control her vocal chords, and only barely able to make her own lungs push air out. She heard her Master's footsteps approaching.

“Did I not tell you to behave, young lady?”

Control of her body returned to Felicity, and she immediately felt blood rush into her face, and her limbs shake. She released the doll, and spun to face her Master, head down, hands clasped in supplication.

“F-f-forgive me, Master, I didn't mean to... that is, I wasn't, uh...”

“Wasn't obeying me,” there was ice in Lady Marie's voice.

Felicity nodded. She bit down on her lip again, her head swimming with the force of her Master's disappointment.

“You will apologize to our host.”

Felicity glanced up, and realized to her horror that the Dollmaker was also there, standing with arms crossed, eyeing her. Felicity fell to her knees.

“Begging your pardon, my lady. I... I am deeply regretful, and beg your mercy.”

The Dollmaker looked her doll up and down, and then back to Felicity.

“Your apology is accepted.”

Felicity let out the breath she had been holding, “My lady is merciful.”

But I shall not be, Lady Marie's voice sounded in Felicity's mind. Her Master would wait until they had returned home to punish her. Felicity shuddered.

“I shall be taking tea with the good Dollmaker,” Lady Marie said aloud, “You shall wait outside.”

“Yes, Master.”

Master and Mistress strode away together. Felicity was again alone with the doll. She glanced at it, shame making her ears turn red. The doll stared back, unphased.

“This one must apologize again. It did not mean to insult Felix. It will walk you to the door.”

Felicity got shakily to her feet. She remained silent all the way to the door.

-

“Did she damage the doll at all?” Lady Marie asked as her glass was filled with bloodwine by a kitchen doll.

“No, not at all,” replied the Dollmaker after a sip of her own, more mundane, drink, “In fact, I rather think it enjoyed itself.”

“Oh?” Lady Marie mulled that over. “Could she have harmed it?”

The Dollmaker smiled.

“Perhaps. If it were amenable to the idea.”

“And if it were not?”

“I rather think the poor girl would have more than just a bruised ego.”