Donna Beneviento... @damaged-dollmaker - Tumblr Blog

@moldcrawlers

Nightfall; what an awful time to be outside.

To be fair, dying of starvation was not a pleasant thing either. It was either checking buildings or fighting some god forsaken creature for some dead animal or something, and Jasper honestly preferred not having an open wound in this place.

Their team had told them to check House Beneviento; No one had been there since..well, they didn't even know. No one they knew, at least. To put a cherry on top to this horrid supply mission, The batteries in their handheld radio had died out on the way over. Great! They didn't know if breaking in was illegal in this place, but they dreaded the fact that they would have to do it alone.

They felt sick to their stomach, clenching their hood over their head. Jasper approaches the front door but chooses not to knock. They decide on checking the vacancy of the building by peering into the windows the best they could. After no luck getting a decent glimpse inside the building, they tap a nail against the window. Was that smart? No. It's like tapping a shark tank.

All that greeted them was blissful silence.

The house behind the glass seemed suspended in time, dust coating most of the dolls that lined the shelves and lie slumped against walls, chairs left half-pulled-out from their respective tables. Even the marks from their move away from the table were coated in a thick layer of dust.

It was tastefully decorated, at the very least, all dark woods, pale cream walls, and green accents. Rugs, decor, the occasional throw pillow on an errant couch.

Most of the windows were covered by hastily adjusted lace curtains, only half-across their windows and yellowed with time and long exposure to the sun. At each window, two plants grew- some sort of pine, by the sharp smell and the needles, bearing a sort of odd flower that smelled sickeningly sweet and let out puffs of pollen with even the slightest wind.

The door was unlocked. An invitation? A mistake?

Perhaps. Why not try to take a peek?

"They have a fantastic sense in decor at least.". Jasper poked one of the flowers, stepping back once a puff of pollen emerged. Something to note for later; Learn if that flower was poisonous or not.

A sudden wave of discomfort and terror washed over them when they realized the door was unlocked. Jasper stares at the door handle for a decent minute before gently pushing open the door with their shaking palm. Their other hand is curled tightly into a fist.

They don't say anything at first, taking a few steps inside the room they had just seen. They DID close the door behind them, However. This is a household, not a barn. Manners matter! The slight tap of their platformed shoes creates a sort of rhythm with the creaking floorboards.

"Don't listen, Don't die, Don't listen, Don't die, Don't listen, Don't die..".

Their tone of voice became more hesitant with each step before stopping completely at one point. The door was just a sprint away, they could always leave if they wanted. Their fear wouldn't let them move, like a weeping angel stuck like stone. The phrase they repeated was common amongst the other survivors. It was best not exactly to acknowledge the creatures or beasts that roam here.

The house stayed silent, nary a creak nor a breath stirring the dust that blanketed every surface.

It was only when they made it inside that Jasper could see the small footsteps that dotted the dust- mouse tracks and something slightly bigger, more human-like. The pollen had settled onto their shoes, dotting them with yellow-white specks that fell and joined the dust on the floor.

...

And then there was a wailing. Faint, quiet, and distant, but within the house nonetheless, as if something was in pain. It grew in pitch and closeness until it was ear-splitting and headache-inducing, cries like a siren going off.

Louder, louder- and then silent again. Perfectly silent. Nothing moved. Yet it felt like something- someone -was aware. Was looking straight at poor Jasper.

The door was locked, now. It had clicked shut sometime during the commotion.

Jasper's eyes squeezed shut, their frown contorting into a full on grimace. After another minute, their eyes opened while trying to catch their breath. Jasper's main goal was getting the FUCK out of there, bolting to the door— Realizing the door was somehow locked.

"What— What what what— Nonono you were just open!— Fuck!".

They drag their fingers through their hair, a dark brown with orange dyed highlights, now frizzy from all the traveling. Jasper takes the hood off their head with a swift motion to cool their body down.

"It was just the wind. Probably. There's a back exit..". They pause, "Somewhere? Maybe?".

Their tone was somehow more uncertain than before. The building was unfamiliar to them, the wailing from earlier lingered in the form of an ill feeling in their stomach, and now the door is just locked. Their ears were still ringing. It was a total sensory overload for them.

Something was watching.

It could be felt in the way the stale, still air shifted slightly, the way that a nervous prickling ran up Jasper's spine. This something was watching intently.

When Jasper returned to looking at the house in front of them, something was different in that slight way that made you notice, but not notice. Had a doll moved? A chair? Had the lights dimmed? It was impossible to tell.

Then there was a clattering, wood against wood, and when Jasper blinked, a tattered old doll sat on the rocking chair in front of them, wearing a grey-white... wedding dress? A veil covered her face, but snatches of a shattered and repaired face could be seen through the thin material, and tangled, wavy blonde hair peeked from beneath.

The doll did not move, did not shift. It sat there, slumped over, head angled so that the beady eyes could watch Jasper's next move.

Go on. Say hello.

Oh HELL no.

Jasper hates dolls with a burning passion; Something about something so innocent have it's innocence stripped away from them with time. It made their stomach churn even more than it already had.

This doll, however, activated all of their fear responses at once. Jasper froze in place just to understand what the hell had just happened. They remembered the tiny footprints on the floor. If this doll was alive they were going to start crying.

It was lovely to have a moment of actual quiet. For now, It was just Jasper, This Doll, and the house. They look around the area one more time before carefully— The best they could manage— taking Itty bitty steps towards the doll.

"How the hell did you get in here?".

They don't expect a response, talking to the mirror image of thin air. Their hands shook, entangling them in the strings from their pajama pants. "You have a really pretty dress though," They sheepishly smile, "I think you look lovely..and I think you need a trip so a toy shop. You need a spa day.".

Silence. It was expected. "..Jesus fuck I'm talking to a doll.". They mumble. None of this was on their bingo card. Jasper grimaced at themselves before standing still for a solid minute. Curiosity.

They inch a little bit closer.

“Awww, I live here, silly! What’re YOU doing here, huh?”

The doll sat up with a jolt, those blank eyes locking onto Jasper as she pushed the veil from her face, displaying greyed wooden limbs and a shattered face—one side rotten and worn while the other seemed just a little bit yellowed with age.

“Thannnnk you for the compliment, though. What a CUTIE you are!”

Her hands clasped together, the careful tilt of her head following suit as if she was regarding the kid in front of her, sizing them up. With a little grunt of effort, she jumped from her spot on the chair and stumbled over to Jasper, limbs creaking from age and effort. The sliding footprints she left behind were almost identical to the ones seen beforehand, although these were fresh in the dust.

“Little, itty-bitty kid in MYYYYY house? What! A! Funny! Thing! Huh? You’re dressed in pajamas— are you trying to have a sleepover? Ouhhh we can do eachother’s hair! Wouldn’t that be fun?” The doll giggled, shrill and terrifyingly manic. “You have such NICE hair! I could just rip it from your head and keep it foreeeever!”

"WOAHAGH!—"

A hand grabs onto their shirt, their breath becoming suddenly faster than it was minutes ago. Jasper's hair falls right into their face, stringy bits all over the place. It takes them a good while to recoup themselves.

"Uh..Okay! Woah. Hi! Uh—". They trip on their words, "Nice to meet you? I'm so sorry but uhm— I DO have to return back to my camp!". They pull their hair out of their face, their hands shaking excessively.

They remember the Mantra that they were taught. What if this doll was connected to those major creature fellas? What were they called? Lords? They thought made their skin crawl, or maybe it was just the dust clinging onto them. Or pollen.

"I would love to stay really, but I do really need to head back soon..". Jasper waves their hands politely. They do however pause at the compliments.

"You think my hair is pretty?". They tilt their head.

“Leaving so soon?” The doll coos, voice thick with feigned disappointment. “You JUUUUST got here, silly PJ!”

With a cacophony of wooden joints, all of the dolls on the walls and the shelves twisted to look at poor Jasper, dull eyes boring through their skull. Harsh whispers sounded from the room around them and the other doors to the other rooms, overlapping and fast and so loud.

“SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!”

The main doll stomped her foot onto the ground, screeching at a pitch that was ear-piercing. The whispering stopped at once, and all of the dolls continued their staring in silence. The main doll huffed and puffed, despite… not particularly needing air, and turned back to Jasper.

“Sorryyyyy about them, PJ! I promise they’re usually MUUUUCH nicer.”

Starting back up on her hyper giggling, the doll sticks out a hand towards Jasper with an expectant glance upwards at them.

“I FORGOT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF!!! I’m Angie. Angie Beneviento!!!!!” The doll retracts her hand before Jasper could shake it, prancing off to the other side of the room. “You— you you you! You can’t leave, silly. You CAN’T. Donna’s gonna get vvvvvery mad.”

"Ah— Who is Donna?". They question before sighing. "Oh! My name's Jasper, PJ is okay too! It sort of fits!". Jasper shuffles against the floor to Follow Angie. "It's very nice to meet you though! I've never seen a talking doll before.". I don't think anyone has, honey.

Donna. That name sounded familiar; like a distant memory you cant tell if it faded or you forcefully buried it down. A chilling recollection of sorts. Wasn't she— There's no way. How can a DOLL be related to one of those all powerful lords? It was almost funny.

The thought worried them the more they thought about it. Jasper couldn't have accidentally walked right into the jaws of a BEAST, right? Then again, knowing how Jasper got here, no one would really be shocked. One mental hospital trip to ending up where most of the crazy ones went— Okay, enough of that, No spiraling right now.

At least not infront of these stupid dolls.

Well, not particularly stupid. They haven't hurt them yet, why should they even be afraid? The longer that they're on this house, the more Jasper feels like they're spiraling down a deeper rabbit hole.

"Jasper! Ooouh what a pretty name!"

Flitting about, Angie comes to a stop right in front of the new arrival, peering up with a delighted giggle. It was hard to be scared of her when she acted like this, all happy-go-lucky and excited, even if she looked like she had been chewed by a dog on one half of her face.

"You should meet Doooonnna. She'll love you. Ouh! I just KNOW she will." The doll did a little twirl, hands mimicking that of a ballet dancer. "You would make such a nice playmate!"

Ignoring the question of who Donna was- because surely everyone would know Donna -Angie hummed to herself as she looked up at the other dolls.

"I would LOVE LOVE LOOOOVE! To see what your scream sounds like when you get scared. You're scared of dolls, aren't you? Right?"

The way her voice dropped to a rasped whisper was terrifying, and suddenly the eyes of the dolls around them felt much more alive than they should. Angie waited expectantly for just a moment, eyes zeroed in on Jasper.

"It's okay. We can find out soon!"

And when Jasper blinked again, Angie was... gone. The dolls were back in their rightful places, looking blankly ahead as if nothing had ever happened.

The moment Angie disappeared, their mask slipped almost instantly. A hand shoots up to their mouth to prevent any stray screeches from sneaking out. Their eyes became squeezed shut; Like someone had but superglue on them, yet the glue wasn't very stable because Jasper started to straight up cry.

They couldn't decide if they should sit down on an actual chair or not. Would it be rude? In the spot second they yelled inside their head, Jasper comes tumbling to the floor, their hands hitting the ground to hoist them up. Who even knew of they were being watched right now? They HAD to breath or else they'd pass the hell out.

Jasper gasps for air, taking the time to sniffle as well. After a good four minutes of pure sobbing they glance up and look around, their hands shaking and lips quivering. Out of a nervous habit, they start picking at the scars littering their arms. Was it stimulation? Distraction? Not even Jasper knew.

It was silent, again, save for the idle sounds of the house, which wasn’t very many. That eerie feeling of being watched subsided to a quiet, everpresent hum, lesser now, but always there. Always unsettling.

The dolls lining the walls remained fixed into their places, although when Jasper turned their back to them, it felt as if something was breathing down their neck— that freaky feeling you get when you know something is behind you, close but not close enough to touch. If they turned around… nothing was there.

For now, it seemed, there was no immediate threat from whatever-the-hell lived here. The Lord. The dolls. Angie. Of course, the doors and windows were locked tight, but that was beside the point.

They stand after a while, hands tightly holding onto the opposite arms. Jasper moves the hair out of their face and looks for an open door. Every door they tried was locked tight and every window couldn't be yanked. The end result was them walking into a hallway.

The handheld radio in their bag beeps, which they immediately grabbed.

"Jasper, are you there kiddo??".

The familiar voice almost brought Jasper to tears for the fight time today.

"Maisie..! I'm stuck in this— hhouusee..and— and there's moving dolls and I think— one of them's gonna get— a lorrdd..". Jasper's words paused in between their cries and gasps for air.

"Nono, hey! Jazzy, listen. We'll find a way over! Duke probably has a few keys on em..". The woman over the walkie talkie spoke with a gentle tone of voice. "We'll go ask! Just hang tight and we'll be over in a little!

Dylan get the shotgun—".

The radio cut out.

Jasper slid down the wall, covering their head in between their knees. This was a literal nightmare.

#{{HI SORRY FINALS #{{they actually kicked my butt im p sure i failed half of them #{{its all good tho we got that

As soon as the radio cut out, Angie’s eerie giggle sounded right beside Jasper’s ear, and her rasped voice could be heard as well. Despite that, she was nowhere nearby— it was as if she was invisible, in a sense.

“Awwww, poor PJ! You’re inviting more people?? This is gonna be like a PARTY!” Angie’s shrieking laughter seemed to multiply, as if there were dozens of her scattered about the house. Maybe it was the other dolls, slumped and lifeless in their dust-coated spots on the walls and the floors. “Donna does LOOOVE a family gathering, and I PINKY PROMISE she’s gonna make it fun!!!! She says hello, by the way, PJ.”

There was a clattering in the kitchen, as if a pile of precariously stacked plates in the sink had toppled over and shattered, and Angie seemed to stop in her little monologue. For just a blessed moment, the house went completely silent again, before Angie seemed to sigh annoyedly.

“Aw, well that’s no fun. Donna’s gonna KILL ME! We’re hosting a little PARTY AND THE DISHES BROKE?! PJ! PPPPPPJJJJJJJ! PJPJPJPJ. GO CLEAN THAT. YOU INVITED MORE PEOPLE HERE WITHOUT OUR PERMISSION. That means that YOU get to set up the pretty party.”

It was as if Jasper blinked and Angie was standing in front of them again, arms crossed indignantly before she realized that poor Jasper had been crying.

“Whassamatter, PJ? Are you cryyyyyyingggg? PFTAHAHHAAA! Did I scare you that badly? Just you WAIT PJ, you’re gonna see WAY cooler stuff at the little gathering you’re bringing.”

Donna….tell your doll to get off of me…! [hi :)]

“HEY! I have a NAME you know. Maybe use it??? Stupid flying freak!!!”

Angie, who had been clinging to Bela’s arm, gently hit the taller girl with a closed, wooden fist. It didn’t do much besides sting a little. Even as she spat and complained, Angie still clung on tight, and Donna had to murmur something in Italian to get the doll to let go.

“Apologies. Did your mother send you for something? I’m aware that you haven’t visited in a long while, Bela,” Donna murmured, voice flat and yet still holding a bit of reproach. It was playful offense, of course, and had the veil not obscured her face, Donna would be smiling just in the slightest.

bela--dimitrescu

damaged-dollmaker

“YES! OUHHH DANIELA I MISSED HER SOOO BAD!” Angie clambered from Donna’s hands and dropped to the floor, scurrying about like a mouse of some sort and laughing aloud before clinging to Bela’s skirt, jumping from foot-to-foot in her sheer excitement at the mention of the other Dimitrescu daughter. Each landing caused a small sound of wood-on-wood, a clattering noise that was, frankly, quite irritating. “SURE, SURE, BELLADONNA. WHATEVER. Where’s Dani?? I miiiiisss her. She was my favorite, favorite FAVORITE!” The doll rushed in an attempt to clamber up Bela’s dress, hoisting herself onto the girl’s shoulder and pulling on the hood to attempt to shake her. Unfortunately, Angie was a three foot doll trying to push around a 7ft tall fly swarm given form. It did very little. “It's okay Belladonna. Even if that BRAT doesn’t like you, I know Donna does! You were alllllllways the more reasonable one. She likes you bestest of all, I think. Right, mopey Miss Donna?” Donna said nothing to that, instead choosing to gloss over Angie’s little comments to address Bela directly, although Angie giggled at the lack of denial and murmured “See? Toooooldja!” into Bela’s ear whilst giving her a little affectionate elbow to the cheek, placing a hand over her mouth as if she was gossiping. “Piccolo insetto, you are always welcome here. Come to visit anytime you wish.” Donna stepped forwards to give her niece a little pat on the cheek, although she had to stand on her tip-toes to do so. “I will be attending this meal at your house, for once. Although I cannot promise I will be as talkative if Heisenberg is there.” (Little bug.)

Bela stilled, if only slightly, when Angie clambered up her skirts. "Careful," she murmured, giving a faint roll of her eyes as the doll climbed on her once again.

Bela smiled at Angie’s excitement at the mention of Daniela. "She will be very happy to hear that you miss her too. She has mentioned you quite often."

The eldest daughter didn’t mind being called Belladonna, she knew enough Italian to understand the meaning, even if Angie likely hadn’t intended it as a compliment. "Well, of course I’m the reasonable one… I’m the eldest sister. I…." And then - 'Donna likes you bestest of all'. Bela paused. Just a fraction too long. She wasn’t irritated, only thoughtful, the faintest shift in her expression betraying that she had been… caught off guard.

Then she smiled. Faint. But it was there. "I like her too." Her gaze flicked briefly to Donna.

When Donna stepped closer and touched her cheek, Bela stilled again. This time, she didn’t hide it as quickly. Her posture softened, just slightly, her head inclining into the contact before she caught herself. "You… you are always welcome at the castle. At any time."

The doll’s snickering near her ear was beginning to wear on her patience. So Bela decided to shake her off. Her form broke apart into a swarm, vanishing from beneath Angie in a single, deliberate motion. For a split second, nothing supported the doll and she dropped. But only for a heartbeat.

The swarm reformed just as quickly, Bela reappearing, arms already there to catch her before she could hit the ground. The blonde steadied Angie in her arms, gaze lowering to her with faint amusement before lifting back to Donna.

"As for dinner…Heisenberg will not be present," Bela replied. "My mother has made that… quite clear." She hesitated briefly before continuing. "I know Heisenberg has become… difficult in recent years, but I was under the impression that the two of you got along."

“EEK!”

Angie squealed, hands clinging to Bela once she was caught, still only for a moment before she squirmed and lightly hit the taller woman with a muttered complaint about being “delicate!” and then settling into the new position. It was still significantly taller than her usual height, even if she preferred being eye-level with the people she was talking to.

“I am glad. I’ll… visit more often, then.”

Donna had turned to adjust something that really, quite honestly, needed no adjusting. While she tried her best to keep the slightly uplifted tone of voice, it was clear that something Bela had said struck a particular nerve— and Donna was prone to clamming up when it came to things she wished not to divulge. It was a skill, how good she was at silent treatment.

“Ooooo! Bellaaaaa you made her mopey again!” Angie snickered, watching Donna still from her tidying to twist her head ever-so-slightly. “We don’t TALK to Mister Hei-sen-berg anymore. He got upset and they had a BIIIIG fight. Super huge—”

Angie stood in Bela’s arms, voice lowering to a stage-whisper, laced with giggles.

“He said he doesn’t wanna talk to us anymore! Said that he HATES us! So he’s not invited over anymore, and Donna is REAAAALLLLY upset now.”

Donna took Angie from Bela’s arms, voice lowered to a hiss.

“Smettila di diffondere bugie, Angie. You know better.” (Stop spreading lies, Angie.)

bela--dimitrescu

Bela froze. Not visibly at first, but something in her posture tightened, the earlier ease fading into something more careful.

Her gaze shifted from Angie to Donna, catching the subtle avoidance, the way her hands lingered on something that did not need adjusting.

She had overstepped.

A faint, unwelcome weight settled in her chest, not discomfort with the topic itself, but with the realization that she may have caused it. Bela was not unfamiliar with tension… but causing it, especially here, with Donna....That sat poorly.

The blonde inclined her head slightly, her voice quieter now. "…my apologies," she said, sincere. "I didn’t intend to press on something… unwelcome."

Almost unconsciously, she took a small step back, allowing a fraction more space between them.

"…but if you wish to…talk about it...." She hesitated, not from uncertainty, but from a rare awareness of her own position in the moment. She was still speaking to a lord, after all. "I would listen."

Her tone remained composed, but there was something else beneath it now: Concern. Not just curiosity.

Her eyes wandered briefly to Angie, then returned to Donna, steady but gentle. "But if…if my presence is unwelcome after such a subject, I can take my leave."

#{{APOLOGIES #{{finals are. killing me #{{theyre all done now and i am BACK

“No, tesoro— you are alright. It is not your fault.”

Donna’s voice steadied, and she finished fixing whatever it had been and moved to step forwards and gently take Bela’s hands into her own. The soft smile she attempted to wear could be heard in her voice.

“Come. I will make you something to eat, so you may warm up. It may be thawing, but I am sure you are still cold.”

Donna let go of the taller woman’s hands, beckoning her to follow as Angie squirmed and dropped to the floor in a crumpled mess. It took the doll a few moments to regain herself, smoothing out her tattered white dress, righting her limbs, and giggling ever so slightly up at Bela before scurrying around her.

“Ooo, if you’re a little curious, Belladonna, IIIIIIIIIII could tell you what happened! I was THERE for the whole thing, you know!!! Eyewitness account!!!”

Clinging to Bela’s skirt, she twisted and twirled around the tattered, bloodstained fabric and hummed idly as she watched Donna drift off into the kitchen. The soft sound of dishes being moved and pots being set upon the stove suddenly filled the awkwardly still house with some semblance of life. Unfortunately, it was usually silent, and the tense atmosphere was not helped by the dolls that seemed to be strewn everywhere, eyes glassy and focused on something far, far into the distance.

It had been three days since Karl had last gone to see Donna. Nearly four.

In that time, he'd swapped his hammer's handle back to the metal one so that he could actually use it, but while it was easier to move around like that given that the more metal it had, the better he could control it, it...

Felt wrong. It didn't feel as nice on his hands as the wood had, and he had to wrap his points of contact multiple times over for it to be at all comfortable to hold.

It was usable, but very far from ideal.

He was anxious to get his replacement from Donna. And now that it had been three days, as she had said, he could go and check on its progress. And he was very eager to do so.

── ⋆⋅⏱⋅⋆ ──

... It was still odd, walking up to her house again. He figured that if this wasn't the last time he showed up here, it would still feel strange for a long while.

Resting his hammer over his shoulder, he raised a hand and knocked heavily on the door.

"Hell-oooo! Anyone home?"

- 🐴⚙️

Angie answered the door, again.

Uncharacteristically, there was no fanfare from her, no screeching, yelling, or laughter. Just a silent stare that followed Karl as he stepped over the threshold of the house, head twisting unnaturally as she watched him. It was only after she closed the door that she jumped from her spot on the ground to clamber up a conveniently placed side-table.

The door locked with a click!

Angie hopped down and scurried from the room, the pitter-patter of her footsteps sounding loudly in the eerie silence. There was the muffled sound of her voice, followed by that of Donna’s.

“It’s almost done.” Donna pulled her gloves back on as she entered the room, Angie in tow. “I just need you to tell me if the designs are what you wanted.”

The veil fluttered with her words, and Angie cowered behind Donna’s skirt, clinging to the fabric like a child hiding behind their mother. Except, well, Angie only vaguely resembled a child and looked rather uncanny staring up at Karl with the slightly open-mouthed, dull eyed expression she always wore.

Karl's heavy bootsteps were criminally loud against the floor compared to the relative silence of the house at the moment. Even Angie—aside from the thuds of her feet—was quiet, which was practically unheard of.

No longer used to the peacefulness of the house compared to his factory, it made him uneasy. In the factory, it was always boiling hot, and there was always noise, noise, noise. Clangs, clanks, creaks and groans—the sounds never stopped. His factory was a loud, dark, sweltering, noisy thing.

But House Beneviento was... not. House Beneviento was small, quiet, quaint, and only pleasantly warm. The loudest it really got was from Angie's occasional screeching.

... It was so strange. He'd grown up in this house, and yet it was unfamiliar to him.

Unnerved, he shifted in place. Then Donna came out, and the doll skittered behind her to hide from him as if he were a beast.

He nearly scowled down at the little freak, but refrained. Donna was doing a nice thing for him. Be polite. Ish.

"Right, yeah. Show me then," he said with a gesture.

Donna stepped aside and scooped Angie up, murmuring quietly to the little doll in her hands. It would have been a sweet scene, barring the tension that simmered in the dusty air. Not only was House Beneviento small, quiet, and quaint, it was dusty and neglected. Warm, yes, but only barely.

Maybe, back when he was little, it was better maintained, better taken care of. The floors were clear of the swirling dust that settled on his boots now, and the entire place had seemed brighter, then. Now? Not so much. Donna turned quietly around, and Angie curled up in her arms.

“Follow me.”

After zig-zagging through rooms filled with dolls and needless knick-knacks, the three of them entered what was possibly the most well-maintained room in the house—a woodworking shop outfitted with a large central table and cabinets along the walls, dolls in various states of completion lying about, carefully arranged. The smell of pine and several other sorts of wood lingered thick in the air, and sawdust coated the floor. A half-finished handle was clamped to the table, and a hammer and chisel sat beside it.

The handle itself was a dark, patterned wood—bocote, to be particularly exact —with rearing horses that circled the upper half. Most of them were complete save for one, which was rougher-looking than the other three or so. In the background of the horses, delicate patterns swirled about, following the natural grain and patterning of the wood. Despite being sanded, the wood looked fairly polished, and it smelled sweet and slightly tangy when at a closer distance. Beneath the horses, there was a band of the wood—also half-finished—that had the name “Heisenberg” traced out in chalk and pencil, with the first half of the name already carved and sanded. Other than that, the handle seemed to end in a smooth, rounded top and bottom with a band that dipped inwards.

“Tell me if you would like any particular changes. I supposed that with the improvements of my skill since the last one, I would try a different approach.”

When Karl walked into the workshop, he did his best to be careful with his step so as to not kick up a fat load of sawdust, but it wasn't much use. He huffed and briefly wrinkled his nose, fighting off a sneeze for a second, then shook his head with a quiet little growl.

When he saw the half-finished handle, he leaned forward and stared, fascinated. He reached out a hand to lightly brush against it with the calloused pad of a thumb, but didn't dare properly touch it and risk ruining Donna's set-up before she was done.

... And he'd thought the last one she'd made was beautiful—this one was breathtaking. Swirling lines like that of the wind; powerful, intricately carved steeds; his family name curling around it, claiming it as his own...

"You really have improved," he murmured in quiet awe, tilting his head as if that'd help him look at it better. "È bellissimo..."

(It's beautiful.)

Then Karl stood up straighter and turned to look at her. He gave her a grateful tip of his hat. "Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate it. Especially since we haven't been..." he gestured shortly between them. "You know. Talking."

"Mm."

Donna's obscured face made it difficult to tell exactly what she was feeling in the moment. The fact that her usually monotone voice lacked any inflection at all made that difficulty worse.

Where Angie usually would have butted in to clarify Donna's feelings on the matter, she stayed silent. Silent, save for a sniffle and the sound of her joints as she twisted to hide her face from Heisenberg. Donna's hands tightened around the poor doll.

"If there is nothing you wish to change, then you may leave. I'll... send one of Alcina's daughters with the finished result."

Donna did not offer to visit the factory. She did not offer to take it to him herself, nor did she offer him a third and final visit to come collect it.

"Unless you wish to sit and watch me work, you may take your leave, Heisenberg."

It was perfect, so he had planned on leaving and letting her get to it—

But then she said that last thing, and he paused that train of thought.

He hadn't sat in this room with her and just watched her work since he was a young adult. He used to all the time—when he wasn't running around and generally being a nuisance, he was in here, watching careful hands carve delicate lines to create fine images he hadn't even thought could be made from wood.

Often times he'd brought his own little projects in—sat alongside her as she worked, fiddling with some metal thingamabobber he had cobbled together. He remembered watching her closely, trying to replicate what she was doing, but his hands were clumsier and his medium rougher, so it always turned out a big haggard.

She'd praised his work to high heaven anyway.

... Karl glanced around, then tugged a stool out from where it had been tucked neglected in a corner, completely untouched since he'd last used it decades prior, and sat down. He took off his hat and set it in his lap, then nodded towards her desk.

"Go on, then."

#full-metal-mechineer #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re village #re8 #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #resident evil roleplay #rp blog

Donna had not expected him to actually take her offer, and she was still for a mere moment as she stared at him from behind her veil. It was only a moment, and then she was brushing aside sawdust and taking off her velvety gloves to reveal calloused hands. Angie stumbled forwards, clambering onto the worktable and simply lounging back.

With a small amount of shaky hesitation, Donna lifted her veil. It needed to be done if she was to work, as the fabric could get caught or obstruct her vision, and it wasn’t as if Heisenberg had not seen her face before. Far from it, really. Since he was little, he has seen the ugly scar that tore through half of her face, her sole shame.

Nonetheless, she turned that side of her face away and gathered up her tools, setting them neatly beside her. With quick hands, she grabbed a particular chisel and began to carve away little curls of wood with practiced ease, quick flicks of her wrist detaching them from the handle and sending them skittering across the table. Angie picked at these pieces, sending them tumbling off onto the floor, at which point she would find a new curl to tear apart or play with.

If it wasn’t for the tense set of Donna’s shoulders, the twitching of her focused brow, or the tension that hung in the hair similarly to one of the dolls strung to the walls, then maybe this would have looked calming. Instead, Donna’s eyes flickered to the man in the corner every so-often, as if she could see him in the corner of her eyes, watching just as he had some years ago, before all of this. Before, she would have entertained his tangents, listening as he tried to talk her through the work he had done in that very chair. Now, speaking seemed as if it would have been a sin in such a quiet room.

All that could be heard was the steady sound of her carving, the sound of metal on wood.

"Donna!"

A blur of buzzing movement stormed through the door without invitation. Daniela barely slowed before colliding into her, arms wrapping tight - far too tight - lifting Donna slightly off the ground in a crushing embrace.

"I missed you."

Donna made a small noise of surprise as her niece flew in through the door and let in the cold air, pulling her tightly close. The stench of blood made Donna’s nose wrinkle just a bit under the veil, but nevertheless, warm hands came to gently pat Daniela’s back.

“I missed you as well, tesoro. Have you come to deliver news, or is this simply to say hello?”

Despite the flat delivery of the line, Donna was amused—her voice had never been the most expressive thing ever, let alone capable of holding as much excitement as Daniela seemed to exude on the daily. That was alright, though. Donna was still happy to see her, and she knew that as soon as Angie caught wind—

“DANI!!!!”

The aforementioned doll practically screeched the name, and the loud clattering of her footsteps could be heard as she rushed forwards and clambered up Donna’s skirt, before clinging tightly to Daniela and laughing loudly.

“I MISSED YOU SO BAD!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??? WHYYYYYY HAVEN’T YOU VISITED US SINCE NOW???”

dani-dimitrescu

Daniela barely had time to answer before Angie came running. Her face lit up instantly, brighter than before, something almost childlike breaking through as she loosened her grip on Donna to grab the doll.

"I missed you too!" She laughed and spun around with Angie, her swarm stirring restlessly beneath her feet. "I wanted to visit you and Mătușa (aunt) Donna so, so badly. But you know I can’t go outside during winter." Daniela grimaced.

A sudden shiver ran visibly through her shoulders. The temperatures were still barely warm enough for her to remain outside for long, and Daniela knew her mother would be angry if she found out she had wandered this far from the castle...but she just had to visit Donna and Angie.

She twirled once more before slowing down and placing Angie carefully on her shoulders. "I hope you’re both doing well." Another smaller shiver followed, though she pretended not to notice it.

"Ohhh, there’s something I need to tell you!" Her eyes brightened again immediately. "Can I… can I stay and tell you? Bela told me to always ask and… not be a nuisance…" The last part sounded slightly rehearsed, as if repeated from memory rather than fully believed.

#{{APOLOGIES #{{finals kicked my ass #re8 #re8 village #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #rp #re rp #re rp blog #resident evil ask blog #resident evil rp #resident evil roleplay #resident evil rp blog

Angie clambered around Daniela’s shoulders, giggling giddily and seemingly unaware of the chills that seemed to wrack Daniela’s body every so-often. Wooden arms tugged on Daniela’s hood as Angie moved to squeeze at her head in her best approximation of a hug that she could imagine. Meanwhile, Donna moved to close the door and lock it, before drifting towards the livingroom.

“Come, tesoro, sit. I’ll start the fireplace for you, I’m sure it was freezing outside.”

The sound of Donna’s smile could be heard in the sentence as she spoke it, and Angie moved to sit atop Daniela’s shoulder.

“I’m doing so SUPER GREAT!!! Because youuu came for a visit Dani!” Angie’s rasped voice sounded entirely thrilled, and she began to play with a blood-matted piece of Dani’s hair. “And you would NNNNEVER be any sort of nuisance! Bela is just a silly stick in the mud and doesn’t know how to have any real fun.”

Donna moved to pick Angie up once the fire began to crackle, setting her down on a couch a good distance away from the fireplace and moving a chair closer for Daniela to sit and warm up.

“As Angie said, you are never a nuisance in this household. Sit. Tell me what you wish to, tesoro. I am glad for the company, and much more so that it is yours.”

laverginedegliangeli

Please take as long as you need to reply

Please come talk to me about headcanons, ships and plots

Please introduce me to all your characters

Please never be afraid to start new things with me (even if we already have 1000)

Please leave endless amounts of memes and all kinds of random stuff in my inbox

Please IM me about things that happen in your life

Please feel free to be yourself

Please HAVE FUN

Angie was in my dreams last night getting chased by Heisenberg with a baton

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #donna beneviento #re8 #resident evil #angie beneviento #re8 village #re village #{{brother i have no clue how shed answer this in character #{{ily tho this is frying me #{{this made me grin like an idiot

zachrp

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ SYMBOL HEADCANON QUESTIONS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

EVERYDAY LIFE / DOMESTIC

📋 : how organized is your muse?

✅ : what do they pretend to have together that they don't?

🕰️ : what time do they naturally wake up when no one needs them?

☕ : what's their morning ritual, and what happens when it's disrupted?

🧺 : how often do they do laundry?

🪞 : do they look at themselves in mirrors, or avoid them? why?

🍽️ : do they eat to survive, for pleasure, or as comfort?

🏠 : what part of their living space reflects them the most?

🌱 : do they keep plants, and are those plants alive?

🧼 : what's something they're weirdly particular about being clean?

📺 : what do they put on when they don't want to think?

SOCIALIZATION / CONNECTION

🗣️ : are they better one-on-one, or in groups?

📱 : do they text back immediately, or let messages rot?

🫥 : how often do they pretend to be fine to keep the peace?

🎭 : how different are they with strangers versus people they trust?

🤝 : do they make friends easily, or accidentally?

🧠 : what do they assume people think about them?

🌘 : how hard is it to really know them?

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

🪑 : are they the type to leave early without saying goodbye?

INTROSPECT / INTERNAL LANDSCAPE

🕵️‍♀️ : how often does your muse think about death?

🧩 : what part of themselves do they not understand yet?

🫀 : what emotion scares them the most?

👣 : do they believe they deserve good things?

🧱 : what walls are they aware of building? which ones are they not aware of?

🕳️ : what do they spiral about at night?

📉 : what's their most common self-criticism?

💀 : do they trust their own memories?

🌊 : what emotion do they drown in when they're alone?

PERSONAL / DEEP / TRAUMA-ADJACENT

🩸 : what wound shaped them the most, even if they won't admit it?

🔥 : what moment do they replay when they're ashamed?

🧷 : who failed them first?

🕯️ : what do they grieve that no one else sees as a loss?

🪤 : what pattern do they keep falling back into?

🧨 : what pushes them past the point of restraint?

🧬 : what did they inherit emotionally from their caregivers?

🕶 : what lie do they tell themselves to survive?

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

HABITS / VICES / COPING

🚬 : what vice do they justify the most?

🍺 : do they drink to socialize, numb, or celebrate?

💊 : what's their relationship with substances, past or present?

🏃 : do they move their body to feel alive or to punish it?

🛏️ : how do they sleep when things are bad?

🎧 : what kind of music gets them through the worst days?

🖊️ : do they write things down or let thoughts rot in their head?

☔️ : do they intellectualize pain instead of feeling it?

🕳️ : what habit would unravel them if taken away?

SEXUALITY / INTIMACY

🫠 : is it easy for them to get turned on, or do they need emotional safety first?

💞 : do they separate sex and feelings, or blur them dangerously?

🛑 : what's an immediate turn-off for them?

🔥 : do they crave intensity or stability?

🤲 : do they like being in control, or giving it up?

🪶 : are they gentle with people they desire?

🍒 : how do they feel about their own body during intimacy?

🎱 : what do they need to feel wanted?

🔒 : do they guard intimacy, or give it too freely?

💔 : have they ever used sex to avoid something?

MORALITY / CHOICES

⚖️ : what line will they never cross?

🩶 : what line have they already crossed and justified? or regret?

🧭 : do they believe they're a good person?

🔪 : what would they do if survival demanded cruelty?

🪙 : what do they value more, loyalty or truth?

🚪 : who would they abandon if forced to choose?

🕊️ : do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others?

🧨 : what would make them snap permanently?

📜 : what promise do they regret making?

🪦 : what hill would they die on?

rmstitanics

THEME: Light and Dark Academia

made from resources found on pinterest

no credits needed, but reblogs are always welcomed!

It had been three days since Karl had last gone to see Donna. Nearly four.

In that time, he'd swapped his hammer's handle back to the metal one so that he could actually use it, but while it was easier to move around like that given that the more metal it had, the better he could control it, it...

Felt wrong. It didn't feel as nice on his hands as the wood had, and he had to wrap his points of contact multiple times over for it to be at all comfortable to hold.

It was usable, but very far from ideal.

He was anxious to get his replacement from Donna. And now that it had been three days, as she had said, he could go and check on its progress. And he was very eager to do so.

── ⋆⋅⏱⋅⋆ ──

... It was still odd, walking up to her house again. He figured that if this wasn't the last time he showed up here, it would still feel strange for a long while.

Resting his hammer over his shoulder, he raised a hand and knocked heavily on the door.

"Hell-oooo! Anyone home?"

- 🐴⚙️

Angie answered the door, again.

Uncharacteristically, there was no fanfare from her, no screeching, yelling, or laughter. Just a silent stare that followed Karl as he stepped over the threshold of the house, head twisting unnaturally as she watched him. It was only after she closed the door that she jumped from her spot on the ground to clamber up a conveniently placed side-table.

The door locked with a click!

Angie hopped down and scurried from the room, the pitter-patter of her footsteps sounding loudly in the eerie silence. There was the muffled sound of her voice, followed by that of Donna’s.

“It’s almost done.” Donna pulled her gloves back on as she entered the room, Angie in tow. “I just need you to tell me if the designs are what you wanted.”

The veil fluttered with her words, and Angie cowered behind Donna’s skirt, clinging to the fabric like a child hiding behind their mother. Except, well, Angie only vaguely resembled a child and looked rather uncanny staring up at Karl with the slightly open-mouthed, dull eyed expression she always wore.

Karl's heavy bootsteps were criminally loud against the floor compared to the relative silence of the house at the moment. Even Angie—aside from the thuds of her feet—was quiet, which was practically unheard of.

No longer used to the peacefulness of the house compared to his factory, it made him uneasy. In the factory, it was always boiling hot, and there was always noise, noise, noise. Clangs, clanks, creaks and groans—the sounds never stopped. His factory was a loud, dark, sweltering, noisy thing.

But House Beneviento was... not. House Beneviento was small, quiet, quaint, and only pleasantly warm. The loudest it really got was from Angie's occasional screeching.

... It was so strange. He'd grown up in this house, and yet it was unfamiliar to him.

Unnerved, he shifted in place. Then Donna came out, and the doll skittered behind her to hide from him as if he were a beast.

He nearly scowled down at the little freak, but refrained. Donna was doing a nice thing for him. Be polite. Ish.

"Right, yeah. Show me then," he said with a gesture.

Donna stepped aside and scooped Angie up, murmuring quietly to the little doll in her hands. It would have been a sweet scene, barring the tension that simmered in the dusty air. Not only was House Beneviento small, quiet, and quaint, it was dusty and neglected. Warm, yes, but only barely.

Maybe, back when he was little, it was better maintained, better taken care of. The floors were clear of the swirling dust that settled on his boots now, and the entire place had seemed brighter, then. Now? Not so much. Donna turned quietly around, and Angie curled up in her arms.

“Follow me.”

After zig-zagging through rooms filled with dolls and needless knick-knacks, the three of them entered what was possibly the most well-maintained room in the house—a woodworking shop outfitted with a large central table and cabinets along the walls, dolls in various states of completion lying about, carefully arranged. The smell of pine and several other sorts of wood lingered thick in the air, and sawdust coated the floor. A half-finished handle was clamped to the table, and a hammer and chisel sat beside it.

The handle itself was a dark, patterned wood—bocote, to be particularly exact —with rearing horses that circled the upper half. Most of them were complete save for one, which was rougher-looking than the other three or so. In the background of the horses, delicate patterns swirled about, following the natural grain and patterning of the wood. Despite being sanded, the wood looked fairly polished, and it smelled sweet and slightly tangy when at a closer distance. Beneath the horses, there was a band of the wood—also half-finished—that had the name “Heisenberg” traced out in chalk and pencil, with the first half of the name already carved and sanded. Other than that, the handle seemed to end in a smooth, rounded top and bottom with a band that dipped inwards.

“Tell me if you would like any particular changes. I supposed that with the improvements of my skill since the last one, I would try a different approach.”

When Karl walked into the workshop, he did his best to be careful with his step so as to not kick up a fat load of sawdust, but it wasn't much use. He huffed and briefly wrinkled his nose, fighting off a sneeze for a second, then shook his head with a quiet little growl.

When he saw the half-finished handle, he leaned forward and stared, fascinated. He reached out a hand to lightly brush against it with the calloused pad of a thumb, but didn't dare properly touch it and risk ruining Donna's set-up before she was done.

... And he'd thought the last one she'd made was beautiful—this one was breathtaking. Swirling lines like that of the wind; powerful, intricately carved steeds; his family name curling around it, claiming it as his own...

"You really have improved," he murmured in quiet awe, tilting his head as if that'd help him look at it better. "È bellissimo..."

(It's beautiful.)

Then Karl stood up straighter and turned to look at her. He gave her a grateful tip of his hat. "Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate it. Especially since we haven't been..." he gestured shortly between them. "You know. Talking."

"Mm."

Donna's obscured face made it difficult to tell exactly what she was feeling in the moment. The fact that her usually monotone voice lacked any inflection at all made that difficulty worse.

Where Angie usually would have butted in to clarify Donna's feelings on the matter, she stayed silent. Silent, save for a sniffle and the sound of her joints as she twisted to hide her face from Heisenberg. Donna's hands tightened around the poor doll.

"If there is nothing you wish to change, then you may leave. I'll... send one of Alcina's daughters with the finished result."

Donna did not offer to visit the factory. She did not offer to take it to him herself, nor did she offer him a third and final visit to come collect it.

"Unless you wish to sit and watch me work, you may take your leave, Heisenberg."

It was perfect, so he had planned on leaving and letting her get to it—

But then she said that last thing, and he paused that train of thought.

He hadn't sat in this room with her and just watched her work since he was a young adult. He used to all the time—when he wasn't running around and generally being a nuisance, he was in here, watching careful hands carve delicate lines to create fine images he hadn't even thought could be made from wood.

Often times he'd brought his own little projects in—sat alongside her as she worked, fiddling with some metal thingamabobber he had cobbled together. He remembered watching her closely, trying to replicate what she was doing, but his hands were clumsier and his medium rougher, so it always turned out a big haggard.

She'd praised his work to high heaven anyway.

... Karl glanced around, then tugged a stool out from where it had been tucked neglected in a corner, completely untouched since he'd last used it decades prior, and sat down. He took off his hat and set it in his lap, then nodded towards her desk.

"Go on, then."

#resident evil village #donna beneviento #re8 #resident evil 8 #resident evil #angie beneviento #“don't leave. i can't let you.”#re8 village #re village #full metal mechineer

The silence was deafening, even if just for a moment.

Donna stared, head twisted at an angle that reminded anyone who had visited her house of a confused Angie, her one free hand slack at her side.

It took the doll in question jostling in her place to hop from Donna's arms to startle her out of whatever thoughts had crossed her mind. There was the quiet clatter of wooden feet as Angie scurried up and onto the table, barely sparing the guest a glance.

"..."

Donna waited just a moment longer- making sure that this wasn't some sick joke or prank on Heisenberg's behalf -before she sighed. It was quiet.

Deft hands found a stool hidden beneath the table and pulled it out, waving away the sawdust it had stirred up. Donna took off her gloves, setting them neatly aside in a space that she brushed free of debris and wood chips before freezing again.

With tentative hands, she lifted her veil.

She knew better than to work with an obstruction, and maybe it would have been less of a problem if grey eyes weren't fixated on her every move. But still, her hands rested on the table as she surveyed the tools before her.

Knives, chisels, a singular hammer that, really, she should have put away by now. Instead, she selected one of the smaller knives and unfastened the handle from the table, holding it in her hands and carving away at the wood with short flicks of her wrist. Curls of the bocote would fall to her skirts, and Angie seemed almost lifeless there on the table.

Between little sections, Donna would reach for a small section of sandpaper, which she used to smooth her marks out with a satisfying scratching noise. Brows furrowed, mouth set in a thin line, she did not dare look up to where she knew Karl sat.

trgdysmuse

{{HAI GUYS FUN ANNOUNCEMENT

I have spent like a long time redesigning butterfly and its OFFICIALLY GOING INTO MOTION SOON!!! :D dont worry any rps with the old butterfly will be finished with that design/lore, but this NEW AND IMPROVED BUTTERFLY will be placed into effect for all new interactions going forwards!

it sounds like an app update... WHATEVER WHATEVER!! anyhow

please expect like... a few days of radio silence because it's finals season, im trying to redo the blog to fit said new and improved butterfly and uh. i got huzz. and yeah. im. getting rizzy w it yall im locked in.

I WILL BE ONLINE AT LEAST ONCE A DAY AND ALL OF MY OTHER BLOGS (@damaged-dollmaker, @cancelled-wife-mia) WILL ALSO BE RADIO SILENT, UNFORTUNATELY. I DO APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE :(

#ooc #ooc reblog #reblog #this is my oc acc hai guys :P

It had been three days since Karl had last gone to see Donna. Nearly four.

In that time, he'd swapped his hammer's handle back to the metal one so that he could actually use it, but while it was easier to move around like that given that the more metal it had, the better he could control it, it...

Felt wrong. It didn't feel as nice on his hands as the wood had, and he had to wrap his points of contact multiple times over for it to be at all comfortable to hold.

It was usable, but very far from ideal.

He was anxious to get his replacement from Donna. And now that it had been three days, as she had said, he could go and check on its progress. And he was very eager to do so.

── ⋆⋅⏱⋅⋆ ──

... It was still odd, walking up to her house again. He figured that if this wasn't the last time he showed up here, it would still feel strange for a long while.

Resting his hammer over his shoulder, he raised a hand and knocked heavily on the door.

"Hell-oooo! Anyone home?"

- 🐴⚙️

Angie answered the door, again.

Uncharacteristically, there was no fanfare from her, no screeching, yelling, or laughter. Just a silent stare that followed Karl as he stepped over the threshold of the house, head twisting unnaturally as she watched him. It was only after she closed the door that she jumped from her spot on the ground to clamber up a conveniently placed side-table.

The door locked with a click!

Angie hopped down and scurried from the room, the pitter-patter of her footsteps sounding loudly in the eerie silence. There was the muffled sound of her voice, followed by that of Donna’s.

“It’s almost done.” Donna pulled her gloves back on as she entered the room, Angie in tow. “I just need you to tell me if the designs are what you wanted.”

The veil fluttered with her words, and Angie cowered behind Donna’s skirt, clinging to the fabric like a child hiding behind their mother. Except, well, Angie only vaguely resembled a child and looked rather uncanny staring up at Karl with the slightly open-mouthed, dull eyed expression she always wore.

Karl's heavy bootsteps were criminally loud against the floor compared to the relative silence of the house at the moment. Even Angie—aside from the thuds of her feet—was quiet, which was practically unheard of.

No longer used to the peacefulness of the house compared to his factory, it made him uneasy. In the factory, it was always boiling hot, and there was always noise, noise, noise. Clangs, clanks, creaks and groans—the sounds never stopped. His factory was a loud, dark, sweltering, noisy thing.

But House Beneviento was... not. House Beneviento was small, quiet, quaint, and only pleasantly warm. The loudest it really got was from Angie's occasional screeching.

... It was so strange. He'd grown up in this house, and yet it was unfamiliar to him.

Unnerved, he shifted in place. Then Donna came out, and the doll skittered behind her to hide from him as if he were a beast.

He nearly scowled down at the little freak, but refrained. Donna was doing a nice thing for him. Be polite. Ish.

"Right, yeah. Show me then," he said with a gesture.

Donna stepped aside and scooped Angie up, murmuring quietly to the little doll in her hands. It would have been a sweet scene, barring the tension that simmered in the dusty air. Not only was House Beneviento small, quiet, and quaint, it was dusty and neglected. Warm, yes, but only barely.

Maybe, back when he was little, it was better maintained, better taken care of. The floors were clear of the swirling dust that settled on his boots now, and the entire place had seemed brighter, then. Now? Not so much. Donna turned quietly around, and Angie curled up in her arms.

“Follow me.”

After zig-zagging through rooms filled with dolls and needless knick-knacks, the three of them entered what was possibly the most well-maintained room in the house—a woodworking shop outfitted with a large central table and cabinets along the walls, dolls in various states of completion lying about, carefully arranged. The smell of pine and several other sorts of wood lingered thick in the air, and sawdust coated the floor. A half-finished handle was clamped to the table, and a hammer and chisel sat beside it.

The handle itself was a dark, patterned wood—bocote, to be particularly exact —with rearing horses that circled the upper half. Most of them were complete save for one, which was rougher-looking than the other three or so. In the background of the horses, delicate patterns swirled about, following the natural grain and patterning of the wood. Despite being sanded, the wood looked fairly polished, and it smelled sweet and slightly tangy when at a closer distance. Beneath the horses, there was a band of the wood—also half-finished—that had the name “Heisenberg” traced out in chalk and pencil, with the first half of the name already carved and sanded. Other than that, the handle seemed to end in a smooth, rounded top and bottom with a band that dipped inwards.

“Tell me if you would like any particular changes. I supposed that with the improvements of my skill since the last one, I would try a different approach.”

When Karl walked into the workshop, he did his best to be careful with his step so as to not kick up a fat load of sawdust, but it wasn't much use. He huffed and briefly wrinkled his nose, fighting off a sneeze for a second, then shook his head with a quiet little growl.

When he saw the half-finished handle, he leaned forward and stared, fascinated. He reached out a hand to lightly brush against it with the calloused pad of a thumb, but didn't dare properly touch it and risk ruining Donna's set-up before she was done.

... And he'd thought the last one she'd made was beautiful—this one was breathtaking. Swirling lines like that of the wind; powerful, intricately carved steeds; his family name curling around it, claiming it as his own...

"You really have improved," he murmured in quiet awe, tilting his head as if that'd help him look at it better. "È bellissimo..."

(It's beautiful.)

Then Karl stood up straighter and turned to look at her. He gave her a grateful tip of his hat. "Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate it. Especially since we haven't been..." he gestured shortly between them. "You know. Talking."