The Music is in Me

Prologue: The Music Box Ballerina

"Paris, do you have a moment? There's somebody I'd like you to meet."

Paris sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as his creator spoke to him. He set his broom to the side, following Ivan as he led him back to his workroom. "So what is it now, Ivan? You know we're already dealing with the other rejects, right?" 

Ivan chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... Yes, but this one's different. I managed to figure this one out- she's going to help us." He responded.

'She'? Paris swore, if it was another doll like Dorothy and Darla... 

Upon opening the door to the workroom, Paris could immediately see the oddity. There was what looked to be a small, statuette of a woman. Or well, that's what he thought it was at first before he noticed the key sticking out of her back. She seemed to be a music box.

"Alright, Kitsune, you can show him now." Ivan instructed the little music box. Apparently, she could take orders as well as he could.

A plume of smoke appeared, and in place of the music box, was a young lady who perfectly resembled the elaborate music box. Though, her long, silky red hair was real. Her amber eyes glistened with life, or whatever Paris's equivalent was. She gave a small smile, getting off of the desk. The key, instead of being in her back, was worn around her neck as a necklace. She gave a small twirl, her tutu swishing with the movement.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. You must be Paris! My name is Kitsune." She chirped.

Paris could only stare blankly at her theatrics, but he gave a small, forced smile as he held a hand out for her to shake. "Charmed." Was all he said as she gave his hand a small yet firm shake.

The puppet turned his attention to Ivan, his eyes showing exactly what he thought about the situation. "So, what, pray tell, is her whole gimmick? What's her purpose- or the opposite of it?" He asked, gesturing to the ballerina.

"Well..." Ivan walked over to Kitsune, patting her gently on the shoulder. "Music can be used to escape one's thoughts and other things, yes? Well, Kitsune makes you do the opposite. Something like a therapist, I suppose." He explained.

"Uh-huh..." Paris sounded unimpressed. "And you're sure she's not going to, I don't know, steal voices or whatever have you?"

Kitsune tilted her head, confused. "What does that mean? Why would I do that?"

Ivan chuckled nervously. "He's just a bit moody right now, sorry.." He turned back to Paris. "She won't. We already had a test run." He explained. "I figured I'd make something that could help us a little bit more."

Paris hummed, stepping closer to Kitsune. "So... You made a therapist of sorts?" He chuckled a little bit at the thought. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around the house... Though, Kitsune, you don't have to worry about using your little, ah, "gift" on me. I'm quite fine without this whole 'therapy' thing." He explained.

The ballerina hummed slightly, a bit put off, but she smiled nonetheless. "If... If you say so. I'm always here if anyone needs to talk, or anything similar." She stated, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

"I'm sure you are..." Paris mumbled, clicking his tongue. "Let me guess, Ivan, I'll be showing her around?" 

"If you could, yes." Ivan nodded.

"And yet another job I have to do, how lovely..." The puppet sighed under his breath, turning to Kitsune again. "You. You're with me. Come on."

"Oh- ah, alright." Kitsune nodded, following him out of the room. The first thing Paris noticed when she walked was that she made no noise- most likely due to the ballet shoes on her feet. Nonetheless, he had no doubts that it would prove to be rather annoying.

"So..." Paris looked back at her. "I bet you're wondering what it is I do. Forgive my mood from earlier- I'm afraid Ivan has me running around a lot, and it has me at my wits end." He confessed. 

"Oh, that's alright. I understand." Kitsune shrugged with a small smile. She was cheerful too, he noticed. Much like how he used to be- though not nearly to the same extent as she was.

Ahh, how the years of chasing around little abominations changed that for him...

"Good to hear... Now then, there'll be a few loose creations I'll need to drag back here... What are the odds we can use your talent as some type of... sedative? Can you do that?"

"Sedative? Well, not sure... Never tried. Ivan said it helped, but he was the one who gave me a song to sing." Kitsune responded.

Well, that made sense, Paris supposed. She was a music box- of course her whole schtick would be singing... Yet another thing he had a feeling he'd grow to be annoyed by. A music box's natural, ha, instinct would be to sing. Why wouldn't hers be the same thing? He'd play nice for now, mainly to save himself the headache. If she stayed out of his way, he'd stay out of hers.

...That was the plan, at the very least. As after the very first day Kitsune was created, they'd be constantly butting heads as it were. And it went on and on... Until the both of them were boxed up and separated, for what Ivan would have probably expected to be a very long time.

He had no idea that, eighty years later down the line, that both of their boxes would be opened again- as well as the other boxes of the rest of his creations.