#BriarthorneUni - The Living Doll

Chapter 1; Lavendula

March 3, 2019

Spring semester is in full swing now. I've been keeping busy with the gardening club to make sure campus is as beautiful and welcoming as it was on my first day. The other club members seem really nice, though I have yet to be invited out with them after club ends. Which is fine, truly, as I have that gown I've been working on and my job. The morgue has been quiet this semester which is both good and bad; good for those who wish not to die, and bad for those of us who need their corpses for study. Harsh, I know, but honestly who is ever going to read this? Some days it feels like I'm just writing to have 'someone' to talk to. Rauf swears that journaling is helpful for the growing mind - I've got so many of these now I just-

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Lavendula's stream of consciousness was interrupted by the sound of something smacking against her bedroom window. The split lilac curtains only revealed a touch of the violet slime now plastered to the glass, and thankfully, the pane was closed tight.. Her head turned quickly, spotting only a cloud of feathers falling away from the now stained window glass. She scuffed the floor with her chair as she forced it back, and dashed toward the window to see the damage.
Another prank. Someone must have found a dead bird, she hoped, and filled it with purple liquid before tossing it against her window. Lavendula was used to this, and thought living on the third floor would have stopped the casual bullying and senseless pranks against her. She had no idea why so many people she didn't know were so hateful towards her. She stood there and watched the dripping...paint? Juice? Blood? There was no way she'd open the window now to check. That's likely what they wanted her to do.

Lavendula locked the window and closed her curtains before she walked back to her desk and slumped into her chair. Another campus work order form for property damage. Another series of conversations with the staff, with Rauf, and with security to see if they could find the person(s) responsible. They never did find the persons responsible, somehow, which made it worse. She'd been dealing with this type of behavior since she started attending classes here over 60 years ago. She closed her journal and tucked it back into the drawer it lived in, pulled out her makeup drawer and began to touch up her face. The undead skin routine was a constant balance of adding oil and removing moisture. Her hair, now a bright lilac color, maintained the shade due to her violet tinted conditioner - otherwise, she'd have a full head of white hair. In fact, much of her wardrobe was that very shade of lilac, something she slowly acquired over time once she felt confident enough in her ability to sew.

As she touched up her mascara, she found herself once again lost in thought about her purpose here. Her reason for being, at all. It was never clear to her why so many of the other students picked on her for existing, though one was kind enough to explain that it was some 'right of passage' for the freshman. Someone had started, long ago, a tradition of Picking On the "Purple Girl," and though she desperately tried to understand why, she found over and over there was no reason. That she was the target for such acts for the enjoyment and fun of others. At first, she tried to play along, to laugh with them as they laughed at her. That all stopped when one of the pranks nearly took off her head.

Her Immortality Studies class was scheduled to start in 20 minutes, as her phone alarm so graciously reminded her. Lav turned off the tinkling chimes and reached for her favorite hat, an accessory she received from Rauf during her formative years here. She picked up her bag, the sound of her many keyrings clinked together as she moved between spaces of her dorm, gathering what she needed for class. There was a knock at her door while she was moving around, which, given recent events, caused her to pause and approach the door slowly. What if it was the pranksters for a second round? She couldn't handle missing class, so she tentatively unlocked the door and pulled it back just enough to see who it was.