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cromcrux · 1 year

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Crom and the Broken Dolls

Crom's eyes snapped open, he hadn't really remembered closing them, he only remembered being carried away, sent away from a second castle for a foolish mistake. Yet he was alone, no flowing robes or skin like the night sky, it was dark, musty, and damp. Black and orange eyes slid slowly across his surroundings, the room was clearly abandoned, dust and webbing that looked as if it had even been abandoned by the spiders. Clocks everywhere were frozen at different times.

“Time is standing still.” The next thing Crom noticed was the music, a delicate, melancholic piano that seemed to be coming from no discernable direction. He turned his head, beside him sat a pale porcelain doll. They seemed taller than he was but not by much and they had suffered enormous damage. Half their face and one eye appeared to be missing, they were disheveled but not dirty, dressed in a white ballerina outfit. Their hands were folded neatly in their lap. Crom's face went carefully neutral.

The doll turned to face Crom. It's milky eye was unfocused and seemed to be having trouble landing precisely on Crom. “That happens, when time forgets.”

Crom looked away. “Never mind. Can you hear that music?”

The broken doll nodded faintly. “There's music everywhere...”

Crom puzzled over that statement very briefly, looking back towards the doll. “I have never seen you before, you must not be one of His Majesty's dolls to be in such a state.”

They turned away, looking forward again. “His Majesty? There are no kings here.... Only Queens....”

Crom blinked slowly, once, at the pale doll. “Of course there is a King. My King.... Our king, if your queen takes such poor care of you.”

“She is not my queen,” The dolls head lulled to one side. “She is just the queen here. I have no queen.”

Crom stood slowly. “How peculiar, no queen, no King.... Who protects you?”

The doll looked up at Crom and lifted their arms, silently requesting aid. “No one.”

Crom's expression flickered only briefly before returning to careful neutrality. He took their hands gently in his own and pulled the pale doll to their feet. “What damaged you so?”

The doll stood slowly, their joints made a sound like long still metal moving slowly. “The world,” they replied distractedly. They looked slowly around the room.

“What are you looking for?” Crom followed the other doll's gaze.

“I'm.... Missing something.”

Crom withheld his first response before continuing to look around the room. “Is it... Here?”

The looked back at Crom, still distracted but their grip on his hands tightened. “I... I don't know.... I'm missing so much....”

Crom gently released one of their hands and reached up to touch the broken edge of their face. “I think... If we can find your pieces, I should be able to mend you.”

The doll nodded. “I'm.... I'm missing so much.... I need... I can't recall.”

Crom nodded. “Okay, I'll help you. Hold still while I see what all is missing.”

The broken doll stayed still as Crom paced around them, inspecting. It stared distantly into the middle ground, the only remaining eye was faded and lacked the spark Crom was so use to seeing in other dolls. As he walked around them, he saw a keybox missing the key in the upper middle of the dolls back, he climbed up on a nearby chair to inspect the doll from the top as well and noticed several broken clips in their hair. “You don't seem to be missing much, it should be relatively easy to mend you.” He hopped off the chair and moved back in front of the other doll. He tilted his head to one side. “I haven't asked your name,” he mentioned thoughtfully.

“I don't have one,” There was the briefest drop in the music, like a music box resetting.

“Well, do you have something you like to be called?”

“Beautiful?”

Crom went very still, then nodded slowly. “Then I will call you Beautiful,” his words hitched slightly, “You may call me Crom Crux.”

“That is very difficult to say,” their voice was breathy and light.

“Would... Crom be easier?”

They nodded lightly. “Yes, Crom... Will you help repair me?”

Crom nodded. “Yes, we just need to find something that could work to replace your missing parts.”

The pale broken doll drifted away from Crom, “Can we not find the missing pieces?” Their tone both hopeful and despairing.

“If we can. Are they in this shop?” Crom began looking around, though he touched as little as possible, not wanting to be covered in dust and webbing. He noticed that the further he went from Beautiful, the fainter the music became, another, more sinister tone played just underneath

it, as though covered by proximity to Beautiful. Crom began exploring the old clockmaker shop differently, seeking the point where the sinister music was the loudest, but it seemed to be an underlying current, only loud where Beautiful's music was too faint. Suddenly he noticed the barest threads of Beautiful's music playing out of sync, one slightly delayed from the other. He cast his gaze around and spotted a large, tarnished key laying under a layer of dust so thick it looked like a filigreed part of the table. “Beautiful,” Crom called. “I think I found one of your

pieces.”

The doll drifted over, steps slow but almost melodic, following the soft notes of the music that seemed to follow them. The closer they came to the key on the table, the less asyncronistic the music until it played loudly, the dust almost quaking off the key.

Crom carefully dusted the key off and picked it up. “There's a slot on your back, I think this goes there.”

The doll turned, displaying the golden keybox on their back.

Crom cleaned the key as best as he was able before slotting it into the box. There was a definite locking click as the key fit perfectly into place.

Beautiful straightened a bit, spun slightly and bowed as if introducing a dance. “Crom~” their voice was musical. “Your name is Crom.”

Crom nodded and bowed a little more stiffly that Beautiful had. “Yes, my name is Crom.”

“Crom, I am still broken... I still require mending,” There was a slightly worried edge to Beautiful statement, though their single eye was focused, some of the light returning to the glass.

Crom nodded. “Yes, but I'll help you. We can find the other missing parts.”

Beautiful looked around. “Something.... I think something else is here....”

Crom tensed, his head snapping around as he looked for threats. “Something dangerous?” Beautiful shook their head. “No.... But it belongs to me....”

Crom relaxed, “Oh.... If it makes music like the key, it should be easy to find.” He stepped away from the table, as he put distance between himself and Beautiful, the sinister music returned to play low and haunting, just beneath the surface of Beautiful's melancholy. Crom wandered around the shop, listening for an out of sync version of Beautiful's song, he became aware of a third, very faint melody, almost like a heartbeat. Not quite the same as Beautiful's but complimentary, less melancholy and more longing. Crom following the music until he came upon a dusty black mask. “Beautiful?” He stared, it seemed to be made of metal rather than the porcelain he expected.

Beautiful danced slowly over, they lifted the mask, careless of the dust. When their fingers touched the mask, both songs vanished and a melancholic waltz started before fading just as quickly, replaced by Beautiful's song once more.

“What was that?” Crom asked, his gaze moving between the mask now clutched to Beautiful's chest and their face.

“Someone important that I cannot recall.” Their breathy voice hitched and for a moment, they seemed as though they might cry.

Crom nodded slowly. “We'll find them too.” He offered gently.

Beautiful nodded and fastened the mask around their neck. It hung there like a black lock, stark iron to their soft porcelain. They held out their hand for Crom. He took it tenderly, but thoughtlessly, giving them his left hand where the mended break sparkled like the night sky. Beautiful looked down at his hand. “You are also broken?”

Crom shook his head. “No, I'm mended. This is the mark of the celestials, a gift for diligence and loyalty.”

Beautiful tilted their head. “Diligence and loyalty...”

Crom nodded. “Before I made so many mistakes.”

Beautiful blinked with their remaining eye. “But they did not retract their gift?”

Crom shook his head. “No, even now they still love me.”

“And you love them?”

Crom was silent, his dark eyes capturing Beautiful's single pale one. “We should keep looking for your missing pieces.”

They smiled slowly at Crom. “You are quite a finely crafted doll.”

Crom's neutral expression broke, a soft flush painted across his cheeks. “Thank you...”

Beautiful nodded and lead them from the old clockshop. The door creaked painfully as they opened and closed it again, the wood settling unevenly against the frame.

Crom didn't bother trying to lock it, the door hung too unevenly to close properly. He looked around the dilapidated buildings, there was a dirty mist that seemed to permeate the broken windows and shadowed doorsteps.

“Where is this place?”

“Between two suns.” Beautiful murmured dreamily.

Their tone caught Crom off guard and he looked up slowly. The sky above was dark, the stars glimmered dimly through a thick shell of clouds. None of them were familiar. “Unfamiliar stars? Maybe I should ask when I am....”

“I told you, time is standing still. There is no when.”

“He isn't standing still.” Crom argued firmly.

“But he isn't here.”

“All the more reason for time to pass, he isn't here to hold it in stasis.”

“Or he isn't looking hard enough to keep it moving...”

Crom stilled briefly, then sprinted to catch up with the taller doll. “No, he sees everything. It's the hardest part about getting him to look at only one thing.”

Beautiful looked down at Crom. “Is it difficult to make him look at you?”

Crom blinked at them, then looked away. “Do you remember anything about where you might be missing a piece?”

“I was broken.... But I wasn't broken where I stopped.... Perhaps if we go where it happened, a piece of me will still be there.”

Crom nodded, he was about to speak when Beautiful's music softened, replaced with louder, more menacing music. “What is-”

He was cut off by Beautiful clamping a hand over his mouth and pulling him into an empty doorway.

Crom watched as something appeared out of the mist, his eyes widened. A beast at least three times his own height, with glowing eyes emerged from the mist. Fingers half as long as Crom was tall wrapped around the edge of the building black and shadowed such that they almost appeared to disappear into it, they were pointed at the tip, not quite claws, more like blackened bones, Crom felt the cords inside him tense at the terrible knowledge of what hands like that could do to fragile porcelain. The beast took a slow, hunting step and revealed a gaping maw, the jaw seemed only loosely attached, though it clearly displayed an almost circular row of jagged, backwards pointed teeth, not unlike the teeth of a snake.

Beautiful was still behind him, the kind of stillness only constructs could truly manage and Crom shut his eyes against the sight, focusing on being just as still. As the beast passed, its knee clipped the side of the doorframe, knocking into the rotten wood and sending the molded crums down atop them. Beautiful flinched, but made no noise, remaining silent, still and protective over Crom.

As the music faded, replaced once more by Beautiful's melancholic melody, Crom finally dared to open his eyes. There was a gash near the top of the doorway, a careless scrape. Though little of the wood had landed on him, he turned to find Beautiful covered in the rot and insects that had added to its degradation. Crom went about freeing them from debris and detritus. “Beautiful.... What was that?” Crom's voice kept to a soft whisper.

“A devourer. They eat any living thing they find.... They'll eat dolls too if they think we live,” Beautiful knelt down so Crom would have an easier time cleaning them.

“How does it hunt? It didn't seem to see us at all.”

“They listen for breath, some of them can hear heartbeats.... Wind up and clockwork dolls are the most in danger, their ticking it so loud and there is nothing they can do to quiet it...” Beautiful's voice was tinted with fear and dispair. “As long as you can be silent, they are easy to hid from, but if you breath, or you tick, or your heart beats too loudly....”

Crom nodded. “Then the beasts can find you... How did you know it was coming?”

“By it's music.” Beautiful spoke as though it were obvious. “That was the song of a devourer.”

Crom blinked at them, slowly. “But... How did you know?”

“Because they all have the same song. They aren't like us.”

Crom tilted his head. “Why could it not find us by your song?”

Beautiful shrugged. “They are not clever beasts, perhaps they do not know where the music comes from. Or perhaps they cannot hear it because it does not live.”

Crom was quiet for a moment. “Do I have a song?”

Beautiful stared at him with their pale, milky eye for a long time before finally shaking their head. “No.... You have many.”

Crom's eyes widened. “Many?”

Beautiful nodded. “Yes... Your song changes, sometimes it is sad, sometimes it is fierce.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now... It is soft, and small, and longing.” Beautiful stood. “A longing that is familiar, but I do not know why.”

Crom looked down at his left hand, along with his galaxy colored kintsugi. “Perhaps we are both missing the same important piece.” Crom looked then to the doorway. “What is this shop?”

Beautiful looked at it briefly, then opened the door. “It appears to be a jewelry shop.”

When the door opened, familiar music drifted to Crom. “I think one of your missing pieces may be inside.” The jewelry shop heavily resembled the old clockmaker shop. Dust and abandoned cobwebs covered everything and nothing looked as though it had so much as seen in the sun in years. Crom walked purposefully to one of the glass cases where Beautiful's melancholy music called to him through the glass. He wiped away as much dust as he could to reveal a small white crown. Crom walked to the opposite side of the case and opened it, he removed the crown and looked for Beautiful. The other doll stood in front of a wall mounted case, simply staring.

Crom brought the white crown over to them. “I think this is yours?” He offered softly. Aware suddenly of the complimentary music.

“Is.... This what I am?” Beautiful's voice was dreafully soft. They stared at their misty reflection in the dusty glass, a single hand lifted to the jagged edge of their missing eye. “Why would you mock me and call me beautiful?”

Crom frowned at them. “You are damaged, but that doesn't make you less beautiful. It means you are worthy of repair.” Crom stepped back. “Come here and I will continue those repairs.”

Beautiful turned to look at him, their eye landed on the crown. “It is too fine for me...”

Crom tilted his head impetuously. “Ridiculous, it is part of you. The clips are still in your hair. Kneel and I shall return it.”

Beautiful looked at him dubiously, but knelt.

Crom stood on his toes to reach the top of their head. He fastened the clips to the crown with a soft click. “See? A perfect match.”

Beautiful stood and returned to look at their reflection. “But... My eye...”

“When we find it, or a suitable replacement, I will mend that as well.”

“How?” Their hand returned to their face, tracing the jagged, broken edges. They winced as if in pain.

“Magic,” It was Crom's turn to sound as though he spoke an obvious truth.

They gasped at him. “No, oh no. You mustn't pay that sort of price, not for something as petty as vanity.”

“What price? The spell is so simple an organic could cast with no consequence and it requires so little strength I could do it nearly a dozen times before I required a rest.”

“But.... Magic makes one mad! It fractures dolls like us! Men lose their minds and become monsters!”

Crom tilted his head at them curiously. “Poppycock. I have used magic my whole life and never has it hurt me. I have only ever been harmed by failing to use magic when I should have.”

Beautiful shook their head. “No... No, what if you have already gone mad and don't know? What if mending me is the last straw and you break?”

Crom held up his left hand where the stars danced and sparkled. “Then I will rebuild. I have done it for others, I can do it for myself. The Reaper has not kept me yet.”

Beautiful tilted their head. “Who is the Reaper?”

Crom tilted his head the opposite way. “The Reaper is...Reaper.... That which comes for you when you die.”

Beautiful stared. “We.... We cannot die. We only stop once our purpose is fulfilled or cannot be.”

Crom smiled at them, a genuine, soft smile. “Then I am perfectly safe, my purpose is ongoing.”

Beautiful gave another dubious look before nodding. “If you say so....”

Crom looked past them to the cabinet. “I hear something in there, I think it might be another piece.”

Beautiful turned back to the cabinet and opened it. From within, they withdrew a wreath crown of black thorns. The melancholic waltz returned, louder and more prominent than before. It took longer to fade away, Beautiful turned to face Crom, tears barely held back in the single eye. “I.... It looks so painful, a weight to be borne.”

Crom nodded. “Those who bare such weights, rarely notice the thorns. Only we who see the work also see the toll it takes.”

Beautiful clutched the crown tightly to their chest, the iron pulled at the delicate fabric of their clothes. “I know where we must go next.... I must return to my home.” They looked out of the dirtied window. “Where it began.”

Crom followed Beautiful from the shop and back to the dingy road. He took more time looking around, there were shadows in nearly every window that seemed to move on their own, enormous ravens perched atop buildings, looking off into the distance and he noticed that if he looked directly up, there was a golden light reflecting off.... Something. Too far away to be seen as anything but a thick band across the sky, it looked jagged and somehow wet. “What is that?”

Beautiful followed his gaze up. “The rest of the world,” They sounded mildly confused.

“But... How? I've never been able to see part of a world by looking at the sky.”

“What? But it's always been thus, it is brighter this time of year but surely you are not so new.”

Crom shook his head. “I'm not from here at all, how could a world be shaped this way?”

“How could it be shaped any other?”

Crom didn't know how to answer that.

The city did not grow any more lively or vibrant as they walked. Crom saw only abandoned shops and homes. “What happened here? Where are all the people?”

Beautiful shrugged delicately. “Fled I'm sure... This part of the city became too dangerous. Devourers, Shadow Stealers, Mind Stealers, all brought here from them, always following the inhabitants of the city.”

Crom noticed the enormous webbing and a few butterflies fluttering gracefully in a window sill. He remembered how terrible they had been for the organics. “Why are you still here then?”

Beautiful hesitated on one of their steps before smoothly flowing into the next one. “I was.... Discarded.”

Crom frowned, his eyes lowered to the path before him. “How can you continue?”

“Because I never fulfilled my purpose, and you have made that purpose possible once more.”

“What is your purpose?”

“I.... I do not know... But it waits for me where I began. That much I can feel.”

Crom followed Beautiful in silence for the rest of the walk. He followed them down a particularly dim alley, the thick soot like fog clung to his clothes and he felt certain if he needed to breath, he wouldn't have been able to.

Beautiful stopped in a corner of the alley, staring at the ground. Crom came up beside Beautiful and looked as well.

Laying on the ground was Beautiful's missing eye, pieces of broken porcelain, and an iron black heart. Crom stepped in front of Beautiful, listening to the melancholy music and its compliment play sadly together. He scooped the pieces of porcelain and the eye into his hands and turned. “Will you come down here so I can finished mending you?”

Beautiful knelt down with care, their knee hovered just above the broken cobblestone.

Crom held the pieces up to Beautiful's face. “Return what has been lost, make the pieces whole.” Crom's hands illuminated in soft blue as he covered the broken portion of Beautiful's face When he pulled his hands back, the magic faded away but Beautiful's face was fully restored. He smiled tenderly at them. “There, now your perfect is reflected on the outside as well.”

Beautiful smiled at him, but their eyes fell to the iron heart. When they lifted it, the waltz played and for the briefest moment and the heart beat.

Crom looked up to find Beautiful weeping.

Beautiful looked down at Crom. “Crom.... Crom Crux.... Please...” They clutched both the crown of thorns and the iron heart. “My partner... Will you mend them as well?”

Crom looked at the iron pieces Beautiful carried and nodded. “Of course. I told you, that spell is a breeze.”

Beautiful stood gracefully and lead Crom through a slim door in one of the old buildings. The shop was not like the others. It looked as though there had been destroyed. Workshop tables lay in scattered pieces on the floor, shards of glass from broken windows were strewn all over the front of the shop. Broken dolls laid around, too badly damaged for even Crom to repair.

Beautiful walked through the carnage to a darkened corner. Light reflected off Beautiful's porcelain and glinted over a black form slumped against the wall.

Crom picked his way carefully through the destruction, he took great care not to disturb any of the pieces of the other dolls. Once he was closer, he could see the doll better. A black iron skeleton in a black suit that matched Beautiful's. “Who.... Is this?”

“My partner... Devotion...” Beautiful knelt before the black skeleton, they placed the mask over the skeleton's jaw, the crown on their head and gently set the heart in place. They stepped back and looked hopefully at Crom.

Crom nodded and stepped forward. “Return what has been lost, make the pieces whole.”

The doll stayed perfectly still for several long, totally silent minutes. Then, soft and slow at first, a sound like a drum beat. The heart flickered and glowed, as it stabilized into a steady heartbeat, the complimentary music began, mixing with Beautiful's song as they stood. The skeleton extended their hand to Beautiful. They made a sound like an expectant sigh.

Beautiful nodded. “Of course... It's our purpose.” They took the other dolls hand and looked at Crom. They indicated the key on their back. “Would you mind one last favor?”

Crom nodded and reached up. He twisted the key until the springs felt tight then carefully stood back.

The waltz that had played each time Beautiful touched a piece of the partner started again, For a moment both dolls were still, then in perfect synchronicity, they began. They stepped across and around the carnage, disturbing nothing but the dust. The waltz was slow, somber, only a little melancholic but with a longing Crom also recognized. It made him ache to watch but he couldn't turn away. As the music box wound down, the waltz slowed and finally, stopped. Both dolls slowed to a stop, mid turn. Though the iron doll's heart glowed brightly, it ceased beating, illuminating them in a soft red light.

“B...Beautiful?” Crom took a step towards them, but neither doll responded. “Devotion?” Crom suddenly saw movement. He turned to face it, through an unbroken pane of glass, he saw a short young man with sallow skin and long hair. “Who are you?” Crom put himself between the dolls and the stranger, but the stranger moved to match. “Answer me!” Crom's hands glowed with violet light, he took a step towards the stranger and the stranger moved to match. “Who are you!” Crom took another step forward. And fell. He slipped through the floor, enveloped in cold, silvery light. The last thing he saw was the stranger vanish as well.

#bjd #creative writing #my ocs #soft magic #worldbuilding

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