note:it's the middle of the night.

note: Title comes from the Dresden Dolls. It fits doesn't it?

Threat: Cat from Australia, you'd better say something!

Dedicated to Rorschach Kitty. She made me adore Drossell.

beau·ty [byoo-tee] noun, plural beau·ties.

1.the quality present in a thing or person that gives intense pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind, whether arising from sensory manifestations (as shape, color, sound, etc.), a meaningful design or pattern, or something else (as apersonality in which high spiritual qualities are manifest).

2.a beautiful person, especially a woman.

3.a beautiful thing, as a work of art or a building.

4.Often, beauties. something that is beautiful in nature or insome natural or artificial environment.

5. an individually pleasing or beautiful quality; grace; charm: a vivid blue area that is the one real beauty of the painting.

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For as long as I could remember, beauty was something I worshipped. Something I craved, admired and wanted to create for myself. I knew what it was, yet, I never truly understood it. The beauty of sound, of taste, of texture, of sight and smell, and –from the loves of the higher powers- the symphony that came with the combinations of beauteous things, I knew what they were, I knew how to sight it and how to tell what could be considered beauty, but in the grand scheme of things, what created beauty still eluded me.

I knew beauty, yet for all my thoughts and work I could still not understand it.

My first memory of the new existence in which I was born into was that of a young child coming to see the dolls that littered the lines of my store, her small hands gently running over the china skin and the frail lace that composed the dress. As she examined it, I caught sight of her lips curling upwards, something that was called a 'smile' as I was later told, and her eyes brightened considerably. I questioned her reactions, wondering what could make such a girl, a girl who had previously looked so unhappy with her existence, have such a change in a demeanor. Her response, something that still binds me to my art today, was simple.

You've made something beautiful.

Never before had I heard something uttered towards me, and I could only look at the child with considerable amounts of shock. I, a mere doll maker, a puppet without its strings, had created something beautiful? I had never had any conscious intention of making beauty, yet as I think back, I supposed that was all I'd ever wanted to do. My dolls had never had any mars or blemishes that could taint their glowing appearance or fog the clear windows that I had granted them as eyes. It was an effort to create beauty regardless of whether or not it was purposeful or not.

However...

As I continued to gaze upon the 'beauty' I had created, a frown slid onto my face. These dolls, they were missing something, a crucial piece out of their sculpted perfection. The beauty they had, yes it was beautiful, but it was not the same warmth and joyous beauty that was emanating from the girl beside me. She held something in her that the cold china lacked and it confused me. I had created beauty, had I not? And as I sat there, I thought to myself silently, nodding as I continued to hear the young lady speak to herself of what wonders I had made. I thought to myself 'what have I missed?' 'What aspect of beauty still eludes me?' and 'what does this girl possess that I cannot recreate?' And as I thought to myself, the solution came to the forefront of my mind, clearing up the confusion filled fog that had graced me.

Humanity.

That's what she had that my little Carina, the Swedish milkmaid on the left end of the shop, did not possess. It was what Marta, and Alexa, the twin Romanian gypsy maidens, could never reflect through their glassy azure eyes. Humanity was never present in Jill or in Molly, nor did it ever exist in Elizabeth or in Caroline or Susanna and it had never been a blessing in Emile and Mei Lao. None of my dolls could ever radiate like she did, because none of them had ever been blessed with the beauty of humanity.

With this realization I thanked the young child, handing her the doll she had been looking at since her arrival, and shooed her off, bidding my fair child away, hearing her skip of singing 'London Bridge' as she left the alley. I was grateful for her arrival into the shop that wonderful day, I had become something more than an empty shell with a transplanted soul, no, now I was on a journey to create true beauty. To create, not to imitate, illustrious and wondrous beauty.

May God have mercy on my soul.

Let the ring bring them in, bring them in, bring them in. Let the ring bring them in, my fair lady.

The blue jewel, the diamond known as 'Hope' was a symbol that I made to track the girls that were selected by both myself and my new master to become the objects our quest to fill the world with beauty. They were the Shards of my Hope to fulfill my quest, and I sent each child a shard.

But as I thought to myself, I realized this-this shard, it was not merely a hope for me, no it was a hope for them! It was a hope that they, mere little human children, could come forth and participate in the birth of ultimate beauty! They would have the chance to merge their humanity with the beauty of absolute perfection. These girls, who would end up wasting their beauty, their glorious humanity, in the arms of society and balls and marriages that were not made to please them, but to raise them up in the constrictive vines of society, would be able to escape. By becoming a doll, a perfectly preserved image of what they were at the glowing time of their youth, they were able to leave all that behind them!

Oh yes, the hope was for them and for me! My search for beauty, my quest to discover what beauty truly was the hope for everyone, for me and for them.

Hope.

Splash the gore and paint the floor, paint the floor, paint the floor. Splash the gore and paint the floor, my fair lady.

When I made my first child into a doll, I realized what a wonderful paint blood could make. It smeared so easily, I could put it anywhere and use it at any time. It was such a bright red, and as I looked at the scarlet color for the first time, I began to identify what humanity really was. The blood was the life, the giver of all things. It kept humans, even myself-in my prior life that is- alive and well. It was what sold the humans their blessings on Earth.

I remember the first time I had ever dared to remove the liquid beauty from one of my models. She had cried and screamed like I was actually hurting her, but once my silver knife pierced the thudding red object deep in her chest, I think she began to understand. I was merely trying to spread her beauty with the world, I was only trying to use my powers of creation to make true beauty, for only after I made the truth would I understand it.

Once I pulled the knife out of her, I had realized that if blood was the carrier of humanity, then I was to experience all of it. The taste, the sounds, the smells, the texture, the sight and I was to combine them all. The iron taste of the scarlet liquid alongside the rusty smells and the sounds of the girls screaming in joy as my knife pierced their pale skin. All of that was too happen at once, and maybe then I might be granted a tiny glimpse of truthful beauty. And as I thought, I acted, tearing the soft skin of a young Amelia- I knew her name because of the grey chain she wore around her neck. It said Amelia P.- into slender bits, licking her bright blood of the dull knife, allowing her screams to penetrate my ears, and all the while experiencing the most wonderful sensations. Was this what truthful beauty felt like? The flashes of light shattering over my eyes while my ears drowned in a symphony of human voices?

Was this what blood could give to a person?

Dry the skin and sew it shut, sew it shut, sew it shut. Dry the skin and sew it shut, my fair lady.

My dolls were no ordinary dolls. Formerly human and currently residing in skeletons of iron with innards of steel, or sand if you manage to come across one of my earlier works, the skin is what gave them the final touch of perfection. In death, the skin would become sallow and pale, but I found ways to treat it, combating nature by slicing each bit of skin and washing and coating it like I would china before sewing it together and replacing it on the frame.

Such skin, so soft, so lively so radiant with life even after death. This beauty, though extremely admirable, puzzled me, for even without the blood of the eternal truth flowing through their veins, they still managed to maintain that aura of humanity, of beauty. Something such as this confused me.

How could they appear to appear to hold humanity, even without blood? I had created true beauty, a human doll, the perfect combination of humanity and china, a preservation act on a grand scale, yet still, I did not understand true beauty. I sat that evening in the back of the Mandalay Manor, a discarded corpse aside me, one that I had found unworthy of becoming the truth, and my first doll in my hands, my brow furrowed and confused.

I had made the beauty, I had replicated humanity to the furthest extent and yet understanding still eluded me.

Had I made a mistake somewhere? Was blood still within the body, were organs present? What was wrong with it?!

I ripped that very first creation to shreds, looking for traces of crimson, of an organ that I had missed, or perhaps of even a soul, something, anything that would prove to be a mistake and would give me the keys to true beauty. If I had missed any drop of blood and I removed it, and the doll withered, then it was blood. If I stumbled onto the soul and snatched it away only to have the thing poof into dust, then the soul was what nourished beauty, even after the expiration of the body. If the organs were the cause, then once I yanked them away the body would crumble, and there I would have the truth. There I would have discovered the origins of beauty.

I would understand the truth.

But to my dismay, I found nothing. My gloved hands, stained with red, came across only the materials I had placed inside the child. Nothing was there, my meticulous methods had let nothing escape me, and as I threw the doll across the stony floor, something inside me dropped. Was I not meant to find true beauty? Was I never supposed to discover what separated the dolls from the humans?

But as I thought to myself, I began to think, to realize something. What was I? I reasoned, that I'm supposed to be human, however, lately, termites seemed to be falling out my ears. Was I nothing but an animated doll? Nothing more than what I had made these girls? And as I thought to myself, I reasoned no, for I was able to think on my own, to breathe and to live. I did not need the tune of a musical box to control my actions.

If I was neither doll nor human, nor human made into doll, then what was I? Was I the truth of beauty? Was I the explanation I had been searching for all along? Perhaps I was, but I could not tear myself open. If I was to do that, then I would die, and I would never find the explanations I sought. My only option then, was to create as many more humanoids as I could, and create them in as many ways as I could and hope one similar to me arose.

Yes, that is what I did. And that is what I still do. I, Drossell Keinz, the butler to my Master, the new owner of Mandalay Manor and the puppeteer to the city, will create as many dolls as I can until I find what the truth of beauty is.

That is my journey and my purpose. I am driven by that and that alone.

Have I created beauty yet, My Lady?

Let the ring bring them in, bring them in, bring them in. Let the ring bring them in, my fair lady.

Take the knife and drive it in, drive it in, drive it in. Take the knife and drive it in, my fair lady.

Splash the gore and paint the floor, paint the floor, paint the floor. Splash the gore and paint the floor, my fair lady.

Twist the heart and pull it out, pull it out, pull it out. Twist the heart and pull it out, my fair lady.

Dry the skin and sew it shut, sew it shut, sew it shut. Dry the skin and sew it shut, my fair lady.

Use the gold and adorn, and adorn, and adorn, use the gold and adorn, my fair lady.

Fin.

notice:I love Drossel. Even if this site puts him as Drocell.