The Doll Shop

Prologue - Lore

"There are many stories and legends surrounding the history of the old doll shop and it's supposedly immortal caretaker and owner. The man, who is claimed to only be ten years old yet with the body of a teenager, is believed to have no soul. He is said to be the product of the original shop owner's dying wish - the wish for his shop to continue on, for his dolls to still be made.

A wizard is rumoured to have been at the old man's bedside as he breathed his last breath, his last, finest work at his side, staring blindly forward, unknowing of it's creators death, unable to even see, hear, smell, or feel anything around it. The doll was gorgeous - short, light blond hair in messy waves, a two-piece silver hair clip hanging on one particularly long strand on the right of his head, it's amber eyes seeming to pierce through the wizard's soul as the man gazed at it. The old wizard's wrinkled hand reached out, running his fingers over the fabric of the dolls black, satin coat, his finger tips running over the elegant stitching along the seems, the wonderfully made gemstones that created a collar-like piece around his neck. His hand then moved downwards, straightening the tight-fitted pants that were made especially for this specific dolls' legs. Everything about it was absolutely perfect and unique - a genuine one of a kind that could not be replicated with ease.The wizard who, unknown to others, was close to the end that the old doll maker had suffered, stood up completely, gazing down at the doll that that man had worked on, slaved over until the very end, with grey eyes swirling with uncertainty. He had the power to fulfil the man's wish, that he knew. But at what cost to him?

......

What happened after that, is merely speculation. No one knows if it was the wizard who did it, and if the wizard even died. The only thing the people knew is that, the next morning when the local doctor came to check on the old man, he found the man dead in his bed, and what looked like a teenage boy asleep on his knees, arms folded together on the bed, his blond head nestled against them. He bore remarkable resemblance to the doll makers' last doll - a live copy, even - and no one, not even the boy himself, knew as to where he came from. The boy would later find a strange pile of ash under a cloak and some clothes on the floor near the bed where his creator had died, and, even though he thought it strange, he paid it no mind - deciding to keep the clothes folded neatly in the bottom on the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom.

The boy had no name, no memories, no thoughts - or, at least that was what people thought. He was an excellent doll maker, however, and stunned the public with his gorgeous creations, the tiny doll shop becoming famous for it's quality, even if it's owner seemed... different. Inhuman. Most found him to be rather creepy, though beautiful, wide amber eyes with short golden hair and the shyest smile one could have ever seen. He has never once left the doll shop where he was found, though he has found out the truth - he was once a doll, like the ones he created in place of his creator. He didn't dwell on this fact, though,and continued with his work. He did not understand the emotions of  humans, and only felt a few - Love, happiness, sadness, anger, and, strangely enough, lust. His emotions scared him and so he kept them stored away, afraid that if he voiced  his feelings, his unsureness, people would take advantage of him. And so for all of these years sine his existence began, he has stayed in the doll shop, never once straying any farther then the backyard where he fed a massive brown mix-breed he had named "Buraun," since it sounded like "brown." The dog seems to be very protective of the boy, and is a seemingly very good judge of character - chasing off anyone who wants to do something bad to him. The dog, though he is rarely actually with the boy, never goes too far from the shop, staying nearby in case of trouble.

It is here, in this very shop, that our story will both start and end with the death of a doll maker, and the life of a new one. Or... Is there a way to stop the tragedy, this time? To stop the cycle?

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It had been a bad, bad week for Castiel. In the span of two days he had both gained and lost a job he hated - though, he wasn't really sure if either was a good or bad thing at this point. He sat at the bar at the local tavern called "Celestia," some type of non-alcoholic drink in one hand as his head rested against his arm, messy black hair blocking his view of the rest of the place. He didn't know why he had been accepted at the stupid job in the first place - he was a horrible secretary, and he knew it. Obviously, they did too, now that he was gone. He sighed heavily, lifting his head and turning around in his seat to stare idly out at the crowded area beyond, bored, depressed green eyes glaring at anyone who spared him a glance. He listened to an old man as he began to tell a story - the one about the old doll shop at the end of the street that was said to be run by a doll that was turned into a human. Of course Castiel didn't believe a single word of it - there was absolutely no way it could be true! A doll, coming to life? That was just silly! He scoffed, taking a small sip or two of his drink -which he now realized was some type of fruit juice - still listening to the people chatter as the man's story wound to a close, rumours circling about about that stupid shop.

"He has no soul, no real consciousness - He was created by a master doll maker and, upon his dying wish, a wizard brought the doll to life so that the doll maker's dolls could still be created. This creature is mindless. Once he is given a task, he will complete it - well, as long as it relates to making a doll. He can't do anything else." One man, easily in his late forties stated, muddy brown eyes gleaming with something that Castiel didn't even want to pick out, and the young man shuddered in distaste. Hopefully he wouldn't be  like that when he was an old man.

"Late at night, music can be heard coming from the doll shop. The only one ever there so late is the doll; and he certainly can't make such beautiful music! Plus - No one's ever seen a violin in the shop. There's no way it could be the doll, could it...?" Well, that one was new. He had yet to hear anything about music coming from the doll shop. Maybe someone else was working there, along side the doll maker? The man couldn't possibly make such beautiful creations all by himself. More and more rumours, all becoming increasingly outlandish as the booze went into the older men's systems, circled around the tavern.

Around one is when it started. Conversation died and the people stilled as gorgeous music poured in through the open windows along the front wall of the rather large building they were occupying - someone was playing a violin, and very well. It was soothing yet sad at the same time - the song filled with so many mixed emotions that, even though it was pretty, one couldn't get the right feeling for it, couldn't keep interest, as the emotion kept changing. Who could have been making such a story with just sound? Suddenly deciding, Castiel jumped up and out of his seat, startling the bartender into dropping the glass he was polishing, and rushed out the door, throwing some silver coins on the table as he went. He dashed down the street towards the source of the music - the doll shop.

"Is the doll maker playing this? Why does he sound so... confused about what he's feeling?"He wondered, about to reach for the door when he was interrupted by the growling of some massive animal that was crouched in the shadow of the far wall of the shop. Castiel slowly withdrew his hand from the shiny knob, raising his hands, palm facing out, and slowly backing away from the obviously  enraged beast. With a nervous gulp he turned and ran, thedog's vicious growls and snarls fading. As he ducked back into the tavern, he decided that the next day... He would be taking a visit to the doll shop to speak with the owner.