The Dancer and The Doll

~Feeling Alive~ (3)

The doll sputtered to life, blinking and looking up at the Dancer, he whistled loudly and began rolling around the room. The Dancer smiled as Clockwork bumped into the table, the doll backed up and whistled angrily before wheeling away to pick up a pile of fabrics. The Dancer sat down in his chair again and waited for Clockwork to bring him the fabric. The doll was confused at first as to why the Dancer was not in the same spot as before. He spun a few circles before spotting him by the fire and rolling over to deliver the silks with a cheerful chirp. The Dancer took them and began sewing patches over the holes in Rose's dress. He remembered how proud he'd been of Clockwork's mind. He had spent hours slaving over piles of gears before an intelligent enough brain circuit was created for the doll. The Dancer felt the warm feeling of satisfaction fill him up. He had both of his favourite dolls with him and was mending one with the assistance of the other.

Clockwork chittered disapprovingly when he bumped into a pile of gears and teetered precariously. But he made it back to the Dancer with his armload of ribbons.

The dress was slowly becoming more embellished, getting closer and closer to its former glory. The Dancer looked up when Clockwork bumped into his knee, dragging a blanket along behind him with one hand and holding a piece of pipe with the other. Originally the fetching doll had been made to assist the maids working in the mansion's many rooms, he would carry objects from the floor to them to be put away. The blanket and pipe were dropped at the Dancer's feet, and then the doll went off to fetch something else.

The Dancer stood and held the dress out in front of him, eyeing every stitch and seam critically. Certain it was finished, he began to put it back on his dancing doll as Clockwork delivered a pile of old papers and a handful of buttons to the floor next to him. The dress back on, the Dancer considered what to do next. Rose's wig was in terrible condition, and her delicately painted face was no better.

Deciding to paint last, the Dancer gently took the wig from the doll's head and discarded all but the plastic cap. As he began to pace about the room searching for a material worthy of being Rose's wig... Clockwork continued to loyally bring things to his master. This time politely setting a pair of boots and a gear into the Dancer's hands with a hearty whistle.

He set the items up on a table out of the fetching doll's way and gracefully sidestepped Clockwork as he rolled past. The Dancer eventually spotted just the material he was looking for... rolls of brown and blonde silk threads.

He carried them to the table and used his arm to sweep away junk and clear a space for him to work. Clockwork quite conveniently delivered the sewing kit to the Dancer, and so he began patiently threading one strand at a time into the tiny holes on the cap. The dress had taken many hours... and the wig many more. He wove each thread through a hole, then wound it around and dabbed a spot of glue onto it to hold it in place. The light outside began to fade, forcing the Dancer to move from his spot at the table to sit next to the fire. It emitted just enough of its yellow-orange light for the Dancer to slowly continue his work. Clockwork was still bringing random objects to his master's feet, two gears, a sheet, and part of a rope, fabric scraps and five candles.

As the hour grew late Clockwork slowly unwound and teetered to standstill. His gears stopped clicking and he came to a full halt halfway through a conversational whistle. The Dancer did not get up to wind Clockwork's key until every strand of silk had been placed into the wig cap. He eyed it critically like he did with all his works. The Dancer picked at several strands and put them back in their proper places. After several more minutes of fussing he felt satisfied with his doll's wig, he stood and walked towards Rose. Pausing, he rewound Clockwork; the little doll rattled to life and continued his chore of fetching objects from the floor.

Setting the new wig onto Rose's head, he spent many more minutes adjusting and styling the silken hair to his liking.

At such a late hour, the air became very cold and the Dancer had to pause his fussing to wrap his cloak tighter about himself.

Stepping back to admire Rose, the Dancer was satisfied with his hard work. The doll's appearance was much improved. But his eyelids were beginning to droop, and his muscles felt strained. He retreated to his large cushioned chair and sank down onto it. With a tired sigh he leaned back and closed his eyes, cracking one open at a loud chitter from Clockwork as the doll delivered half an old mirror to the floor in front of him.

The Dancer groaned and hoped the doll – however loyal and cheerful he was – would stop running. But eventually, however much the fetching doll whistled and dropped things on the floor or bumped into furniture... the Dancer's eyes closed, his head lolled to one side and he began to snore softly.

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