Inspired by https://www.tumblr.com/serpexnessie/790211339582881792/i-fucked-up-i-spent-too-much-time-on-this-dnd
You kneel down next to your party's Mage, running your fingers over her cracked and broken porcelain, your magic flowing out of you to patch and heal. Your fingers almost brush against the fine red strings that trail from her limbs up into the air, always visibly taut regardless of what position she takes. Your eyes try to track the point where they vanish into the aether, but near the end the difference between "there" and "not there" is impossible to see. She stirs, and her eyelids slide open with a clacking noise. She sits up, slowly, her strings pulling her arms and back.
"Thank you," she murmurs, taking your hand in hers.
"Hold still", you say, not letting her go. "I'm not finished yet."
You focus on healing her for a moment, until the weight of her soft gaze pierces your heart. "Yes, I'm fine." You meet her eyes, made of glass, dark hazel and entrancing. "But you shouldn't have leapt in front like that. Taking hits and getting hurt is my job."
"It was tactically efficient," she says, in those same soft tones. "And besides..." She lifts one hand, red string twisting as she flexes her ball-jointed wrist and her fingers clack against each other. "This doll is made for this, after all. To ensure no real people get hurt."
Your fist hits the ground before you realize you've swung it, the dull thud making her jerk in surprise. "YOU'RE real!" You shout, your other companions looking up in alarm from across the camp. "You deserve- happiness! Love! To not be forced into the middle of a conflict when you should be kept safe-"
"In a glass box, on a shelf, perhaps?" You flinch, but she continues to stare at you, unblinking and soft. Her dress rustles as she reaches out to stroke your arm, and it tingles where her strings rub against your skin. "No. This doll cannot be safe. But it can be near you-"
"And get hurt again?!" You grit your teeth, hissing like a wild animal trapped between a wall and a predator.
"My companion, please, do not get upset about this doll's fate. After all, it is only a-"
"Don't say it!" You shout, grabbing at her, to do what, you don't know. Shake her, maybe, or force her to lie down and rest, but you miss, and your hand grabs something that feels like a lightning bolt just ran down your arm, shock and pain with the inability to let go for even a second.
You've grabbed her string.
Her right wrist twitches as it dangles from your fist, then falls limp. She looks at it in shock, then at you, the lightning bolt still coursing down your arm. Slowly, your fist and her hand move, and you aren't certain who's moving who. Her hand caresses your cheek, and before you realize it you've pulled her into a kiss, her porcelain skin cool on your burning face. After a moment, you separate, still holding her string in your hand.
"There will be consequences for this," she whispers in your ear. "A doll may be disposable, but those that create them guard them jealously. Still," she - you? - presses her lips to you again, seams in her face cutting into your skin, her strings burning in your hand. "For as long as you want me, I'm yours. For what kind of marionette argues with its puppeteer?"
