Post by Vio on Oct 16, 2020 11:40:44 GMT -5
Mari #1
A mild day on Mirrorball Island welcomed nothing particularly unusual. Sunny with a little cloud cover and a gentle yet chill breeze that helped to stave off rising heat, it seemed rather typical a day in a place that was far from unusual. This was the East Blue, after all. Perhaps the most unusual creatures here were the odd Sea King stalking coastal waters, or large birds that roamed the skies. And perhaps the most unusual places were far from extraordinary.
It was tame, pleasant, and welcoming.
Amongst the streets of such a city walked many a soul, but one such individual was no native. While most were at least lightly tanned or of a more golden, sun kissed complexion, this one who walked the cobblestone avenues and broadways was distinctly fair of tone. A girl from across the Red Line, with plaited hair the colour of cherry blossom and eyes of rosé wine, was dressed in soft pink dungarees that might have seemed a size too big for her slim physique.
About five feet and a half, aside from being slightly taller than average for her age, she was hardly an unusual sight. Indeed, most paid little mind to the timorous teenager as they went about their daily business, and allowed her the room to stand and look through the window of a toyshop. Surely she was too old for dolls now, but that was not why she gazed. No. A raggedy doll with uneven button eyes and a poorly stitched smile, a woodwork wheeled beagle with scratched paintwork, and a cotton hand puppet of what she assumed was a frog were just some of a selection of works that she saw as missing a crucial element.
“That dog wasn’t lacquered properly, was it, Mahogani…?” she asked at a whisper so quiet that just the sounds of footsteps on the cobblestones drowned it out, but the target of her query was aware all the same. Held in her arms, an object of three feet from head to toe — forged of wood and wearing some feminine representation of a samurai’s armour — looked with unblinking amber eyes through the window’s glaze. The subtlest of movements went unnoticed: A nod of agreement.
The shelves are better cared for than the toys… Such a thought held a sour note, accompanied only by a soft, solemn hum. Again, the brunette doll’s head tilted, and fingers twitched unseen, even by the girl who held her close like a dear friend. I’d never let that happen to you, Mahogani, the curious carpenter established with firm thought, holding the aptly named mannequin a little tighter.{Post Synposis:}
Mari observes items on the shelves of a toyshop window, quietly appraising the quality of the woodwork.{——}
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Anette Mari | #ffb7c5