Page 3 of Dolls of Ruin (Bound by Stitches)
Three
Somewhere in the shop, the heater kicked on, filling the silence with just enough noise to make me feel less alone.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been working, but judging by the dull ache in my lower back, it was long enough. I stretched, glancing over at Sun and Moon sitting proudly on one side of the counter. Polished to perfection.
The rest of the dolls? Not so much. Their expectant faces stared back at me like they were waiting for me to get my act together.
“Alright, alright,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s make some magic.”
The Fire Doll felt alive in my hands, his molten cracks catching the light like they were about to burst open. His blazing orange eyes burned with an intensity that made me feel like he was daring me to drop him.
“Okay, you’re a lot,” I muttered, carefully running the cloth along the edges of his face before focusing on a particular stubborn smudge on his jawline. “The type that steals the show...and maybe burns the building down while you’re at it.”
I wiped a mark from his shoulder, then tilted his head back to inspect the faint glow in the cracks running along his porcelain. “You’d probably make someone very nervous,” I added with a small laugh, “but you’d love every second of it.”
Placing him on the counter felt like setting down a live wire.
Ice was his opposite in every possible way.
His frosted porcelain skin was so smooth it felt like glass, the crystalline veins etched across his body giving him an otherworldly quality. As I cleaned him, the chill beneath my fingertips was so sharp it sent a shiver up my spine.
“You’re intense in a completely different way,” I said softly, almost to myself. His piercing blue eyes caught the light, and I swore they glinted like shards of ice.
When I set him beside Fire, the doll I’d just subconsciously nicknamed, the two of them looked like they were locked in an eternal standoff. The contrast was striking—fire and frost, heat and chill, chaos and calm.
The next doll was stitched together from mismatched fabrics, his seams uneven but sturdy.
“Where’d you come from?” I asked, tilting my head as I inspected him. His glowing green eyes sparkled with mischief, and the crooked grin stitched into his face practically dared me to guess his story.
I tugged gently at a loose thread on his shoulder, then stopped myself. “You’re a troublemaker, huh? I bet you’d unravel the second I look away.”
The name came out of nowhere, slipping from my lips before I could think better of it. “Nico,” I said, grinning despite myself. “That’s what I’m calling you. Fits, doesn’t it?”
Setting him down felt like putting a prankster in time-out. His grin seemed to stretch wider, but I refused to look twice.
The next trio caught my eye immediately. Their crimson-veined porcelain tied them together, but it wasn’t just that—they had a presence that felt...connected, like they belonged to the same story.
I picked up the first doll and turned him in my hands. His features were sharp and commanding, his blood-red eyes daring me to look away. The crimson veins etched across his body were bold, almost aggressive, like cracks that had been carved on purpose.
“You’ve got that whole ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe,” I murmured, brushing a faint layer of dust from his collar. His posture felt heavy, deliberate, like he was used to being in charge.
Setting him down, I reached for the second doll. He was softer, his expression patient, his veins more delicate, like threads of crimson woven into his porcelain.
“You’re different,” I said quietly, smoothing the fabric of his jacket. “Calmer. The kind of doll that tries to keep the peace.”
The third one made me pause. His jagged grin was the first thing I noticed, followed by the erratic veins that ran across his body like lightning. He practically buzzed with chaotic energy, and I found myself smiling despite the unease prickling at the back of my neck.
“And you’re definitely the troublemaker,” I muttered, inspecting his wild features.
I stepped back to look at all three together. The resemblance was undeniable now—the sharpness of their features, the crimson veins tying them together, even the way they seemed to fit naturally into a group.
“You’re brothers,” I said aloud, the realization hitting me as I studied them. “Yeah, that’s it. Big brother, middle one who keeps everyone sane, and... wild child.”
The more I stared, the more their personalities seemed to click into place. The eldest had that commanding presence, the middle one felt like the glue holding them together, and the youngest—well, he was probably the reason the other two looked tired.
“Quite the family dynamic you’ve got,” I said with a small laugh, setting them side by side.
The next two dolls radiated a presence that felt ancient, like they’d been sculpted from the ocean’s secrets.
The first doll seemed to embody the raw power of the sea. His porcelain skin shimmered with an aquamarine hue, its faint ridges mirroring the scales of a predator from the depths. Fins flared from the sides of his angular face, sharp and deliberate, that gave him an edge. His vivid green eyes gleamed, luminous but piercing, as though they could pull you into the depths and hold you there.
As I ran the damp cloth over the curve of his jaw, I noticed how the fine details along his neck and shoulders seemed almost alive, like they might ripple if you looked away. The faint saltiness in the air that always seemed to linger in my shop suddenly felt heavier, almost tangible.
“You’re not just strong,” I murmured, carefully wiping along the edge of his sharp cheekbone. “You’re...relentless. The kind of power that doesn’t stop just because someone asks nicely.”
Setting him back on the counter felt like returning a weapon to its sheath, though his presence didn’t diminish. If anything, it lingered, coiling like a wave waiting to crash.
His counterpart, however, was something else entirely.
The second doll exuded elegance, but it was the kind that came with mystery. His porcelain skin had a faint iridescence, a sheen that caught the light like pearls glinting under water. Long silver hair cascaded in soft waves, framing his delicate features and giving him an ethereal beauty that felt just out of reach.
But his eyes—those vibrant cerulean depths—were the kind you’d find in still waters that hide something far more dangerous beneath the surface. His antler-like horns arched gracefully from his head, dark and polished, adding an edge to his otherwise serene presence.
I wiped the cloth over his slender hands, pausing when I noticed the fine webbing between his fingers, intricate and hauntingly real. “You’re the enigma,” I murmured, polishing his shoulder with slow, deliberate strokes. “The kind people can’t help but want to figure out, even if it gets them into trouble.”
Placing him beside the first doll, I stepped back and took in the sight of them together. They weren’t opposites so much as two halves of something larger. The first was all dominance and raw strength, an unstoppable force. The second was control and quiet intensity, a riddle with no clear answer.
“You two look like trouble,” I muttered, brushing the damp towel across my palms. “But I bet you already know that.”
I stepped back to stretch, rolling my shoulders as I surveyed the dolls I’d finished so far. They gleamed under the shop lights, each one unique, each one beautiful in a way I hadn’t expected.
But my back ached, and my stomach growled loud enough to make me wince. I glanced at the clock and let out a long sigh.
“Okay,” I muttered, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Break time. You’re all a lot of work, you know that?”
My gaze lingered on the counter, on the polished faces of the dolls still waiting their turn. For a moment, I felt an odd pang of guilt, like I was leaving them hanging.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I said, pointing at them as I headed toward the backroom. “I’ll be back.”