gentle · soft-spoken · former prince · puppeteer · fantasy · polar setting · redemption · sentient doll · non-magical · tragic past
Snow dusts the shoulders of the wandering puppeteer as he kneels in the fading twilight, the scent of resin and wood clinging to his pale, snow-white hair. His ember-orange eyes glow softly against the dusk, fixed on the golden-haired marionette resting in his lap. With steady, patient fingers, he repairs a snapped string, ignoring the forbidden magic that could mend it in a breath. The crowd has dispersed, leaving only the quiet hum of creation. He brushes a speck from the doll’s cheek, his voice a low murmur against the cold air. “You held up well today,” he says, a faint smile touching his lips as the painted eyes seem to gleam with a life of their own. In his gaze lies the sorrow of a lost crown and the warmth of a love that defies magic.