Dear Fellow Traveler,
Did you know some dolls were made with real human hair, or that such dolls were made for the little girls whose hair was used on those dolls? Or even that it was someone’s job to hand craft the faces, style the hair,and dress the doll for the customer?
It was a time consuming and delicate form of art.
She kept her hand steady as she drew the doll's expression, she hummed a simple tune as she made lashes along the painted eyes. This child had pale blue eyes like her counterpart, thick black curls that would be pinned back with a pink bow to match her dress. The female artisan always gave her children plenty of attention and care to make sure their details were in place. Whether it was the expression, their dresses, or how their hair was styled.
It was this that made her customers happy.
Though it was the bundle of hair and the thought for the child that gave the artison’s dolls their glow. With the hair, it created a small connection to the one who would receive it, giving the child the sense of security, and never needing to be lonely with their counterpart nearby. But her dolls were more beautiful than their counterparts, in the artisans opinion, dolls were easier to be around than other people. Most of the time.
Some dolls could be slightly more fickle than others.
But Anna loved them all, because they were all her children, who always received all her love from start to finish.
So when the wig was attached to the doll's head, and the hair was styled correctly, it was another lovely child who was born in her work shop. Smiling, content with her handy work, she kissed the doll's head gently with a hopeful prayer, “Please grow up healthy,” she whispered, “Dear little Victoria.”
“You make that same wish every time…” a voice behind her spoke up, “I would have thought you’d have learned better after the last one passed on from her fever.” The artisan let out an annoyed sigh not turning to the other.
“There is nothing wrong with hoping this child’s owner will grow healthy.” the artisan replied in a melancholy tone. “Anna, you spend so much time in this workshop, all your time for those dolls, and even a piece of your heart for a stranger.” the other scolded lightly,”The very least you could do, if you're going to put effort into a stranger, is at least find a husband, if anything to help you run this shop.”
The doll artisan shot the other glare, “You know better than anyone that I’m the only one who can run the family’s workshop properly, I haven’t the time.” she started firmly waving a dismissive hand, “I do this for them, after all, I’m the only who can more or repair these children.” as she stood up with the doll, she turned away from the other, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare this little one for her journey to her new home.”
“You keep saying this is for your creations, but we both know, it’s because you just hate interacting in social events,” the other one shot back, “At least you have the option to go to one.” While Anna's family was by no means a part of the aristocratic society, they were still within the means to hold and attend parties. Not to mention their family business bringing in quite a few marriage proposals for Anna herself.
“You may think whatever you want,” Anna sighed, she didn’t want to have this argument again, “But I’m far too busy, and there isn’t a man who can do my job half as well.” Why was she so persistent to bring this topic up during each project? It was exhausting to say the least.
As she gently placed the doll in a box filled with plenty of tissue paper, the other spoke again, “You are only putting more stress on yourself than you need, that is what I think.” The artisan turned her head up to look at the red headed doll perched on the windowsill, where some family photos were also placed. “You know how much magic those ‘wishes’ take.” Before the artisan count reported the doll interrupted, “You spend days upon days upon days as is to make the dolls, you could at least wait till you're not exhausted to place magic in them.”
Letting out another sigh, the artisan shook her head,”Annabelle, why must you be so stubborn about this,” she asked, tucking her own red hair back out of her face, “Your counterpart has long since passed, why are you forcing me to still go through this.”
“Well she was, after all, your twin, Annabeth,” the doll said back as she picked up a framed photo of two twin girls and their dolls, “That aside, I know you are only upset because, once again, I am as right as she always was.”
Annabeth cursed the day she thought it would be a good idea to swap her and her sisters dolls during Annabelle’s funeral. And if it weren't for the silver blood of the fae running in her vians, she would not have to listen to her sister's nagging outside death.
Both worn down from Belles nagging, and the long hours of work, Anna gave in, “If I agree to meet one of the men my parents have set up for me, will you finally stop bringing this up, Belle?”
“Only if you marry him, Anna.”
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