brush…
brush…
brush…
I sit quietly and still, the non-movement coming as naturally to me as a doll. My breath is slow and deep, thoughtless in the comfort of the atmosphere. Low mutterings from behind me fade in and out of my awareness. They are not important.
brush…
brush…
brush…
"What a pretty doll.. So pretty, aren't you?"
I do not respond. My eyes glassily stare forward, focusing on nothing. Dolls are not meant to speak. Dolls aren't meant to think. All dolls have to do is exactly what their collector want. This doll's collector simply wants to make this doll look pretty.
A hand brushes over my eyelids gently, closing them.
"And now for the eyes…"
The collector says this for this doll's comfort, quelling the instinctive twitch from the unseen approaching touch. The blender is comforting in its soft dabs, the eyeshadow being applied methodically. All the while, gentle one-sided commentary flows into my ears, wrapping my thoughts up in ribbon and lace, coating my brain with cotton and silk.
This doll is the prettiest because its collector says so. This doll is the prettiest because its collector is making it so. This doll is the prettiest.
A pleased hum tells this doll that its collector is finished with makeup and admiring their work. This doll is very good for pleasing its collector by being so still and such a nice canvas.
The apron to protect the delicate clothes is taken off and a gentle tap to the side of this doll's head tells it to gently open its eyes. Glassy eyes stare blankly at a mirror, the same slight smile on its lips, now painted gently to be pink and glossy.
The collector presents several pieces of jewelry and a variety of accessories to this doll, holding them up to see which would look best. This doll knows that anything its collector chooses would be the best for this doll.
The collector gently slides lace gloves on motionless hands and brushes back hair to hook in dangling earrings. They tell this doll to wait right there, a silly comment knowing this doll would not move whether they said it or not.
To the side, the collector keeps commenting on the scenery and how this doll would look so nice posing just so. This doll does not tilt its head to look, it is so good and floaty and wrapped up in silk, there is no need to look.
There is no true quiet, not with the collector always commenting to themselves about the proper placements and soft classical tunes playing in the background. The silk in this doll's head wraps around just a bit more around the squishy toy left in there.
The collector comes to collect this doll, guiding it gently over. Slow, precise steps befitting a doll of this collector's caliber, gently seating it onto the floor. The collector fluffs this doll's dress, poses its arms and legs and tilts its head. They adjust this doll's hair before hurrying back to the camera telling it to say cheese. This doll's expression does not change.
Cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-click!
Several shots are taken. The collector peers at them carefully with a thoughtful hum before declaring "Perfect!" They come back to this doll's side, reposing them, readjusting the hair and dress, adjusting the lights and taking another few shots. This doll is perfect in its stillness, the slight tremble in its positioning being fixed in the next pose.
Over and over, this doll is reposed. There is no such thing as time to a thing as unthinking as a doll.
Several poses later, the doll is guided back to the vanity. A tap to the side of this doll's head tells it to close its eyes. Makeup wipes take away the heaviness of the makeup.
"Open your eyes…"
This doll obliges. The collector quietly shifts the music to soft lo-fi music in place of the pianos and violins.
Lace gloves are rolled off, and other accessories are removed and carefully placed away in the doll's field of view.
"You did so good, you were so pretty for me…"
They kiss the top of my head as they stand me up and half-guide, half-direct me out of my pretty dress and clothes. In their place, they help slip me into a warm soft hoodie of theirs and soft pants. I am guided to sit on the soft edge of a pillowed chair, not the one at the vanity.
"Come back to me, slowly.. that's it."
A deep deliberate breath and a few blinks clear away the remaining bits of cotton and silk creating the fuzz in my head.
After taking a soothing sip of water, I smile cheekily at my partner. "Was I pretty?"
