Being
Calm - Faithful - Prudent
Be a Doll
Pet Name: Being
Owner: Isyli
Theme / Type: Voodoo Koko
Born: June 28, 2010
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Spirit
MisticPal Age: 5184 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 4 / 4
Strength: 1
Defense: 1
Speed: 5
Intellect: 0
Misticpower: 3
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
Life-Like Simulation
Name: Benjamin James Barciallago
Alias: Ben, Being
Species: Animated Doll
Age: 210
Age he looks: 23
Maker: Jean-Luc Barciallago
Height: 5 Foot 11 Inches
Weight: A constant 135 Pounds
Orientation: Unknown
Occupation: Butler at a Butler Host Cafe
Favorite Song: The Denuement by I Am Ghost
Random summary until his story can be written:
Created by a lonely Master dollmaker, Jean-Luc Barciallago, he spent the first twenty years of his existence as a sheltered 'son'. Ben spent his days learning that humans were a destructive and manipulating populace, including his dear father. When his father passed, the fortunes of the estate fell upon his young shoulders. He was passed off as the eccentric servant, and he fled after a wealthy young widow set her sights on him. For one hundred and seventy years, he stayed away, working at a Butler Cafe.
The Beginning:
It was a rather fitting and expected end for my father- but that means nothing, when all I’ve known, all I’ve felt… just ceased to exist. I had hoped, like many young ones, that the figure of ‘father’ would be immortal. Forever aging like fine wine, but unending in its sweet embrace.
~~~
“Padre, no! No, no, no!” A young man cried out, racing to the side of a fallen form. The weight of the distress, fragile and wispy, dragged the younger down to his knees. Hugging the limp man to his chest, he whispered endearingly into the deaf ear, “Sei solo schiacciando un pisolino! Si prega di risvegliare, padre!”
Nothing. The man’s father, face folded and creased like a treasured letter held to one’s chest, only smiled contentedly in the embrace of his one God. A raven haired head bent low over the white crown, lips caressing the parched marble forehead. The son’s strong arms cradled the small body, rocking back and forth in unconscious pain.
To no avail, he repeated words of false comfort and icredulity over and over again, rising like a chant over the shell of a once vibrant soul. You are just sleeping! Please wake, father!
~~~
Out in the bright, whimsical sun, the young man cursed the finality and fragile bonds of humans as he watched as his father’s ashes scattered with the wind to the west, over the hills and meadows behind the estate. Dry-eyed but burning, the young man shouted angrily, words biting and spiced with words that he learned from earlier that morning.
~~~
Fueled by the dismissal of her affections, venomous turmoil fell from the Widow’s plump red lips. Blatant and glaring was her dress of canary yellow in the sea of muted blacks and grays that eyes could not help but center on the woman. Others grumbled in suit after the inheritance, of no little sum with a sprawling estate, fell to the mysterious young servant of raven hair and dark, brooding blue eyes.
Speaking sparsely but in eloquently formal tones, he spoke of the last few hours he had with his Master- fetching cloth and porcelain, watching as deft hands formed unerringly perfect forms. Several men present jumped in surprise, glancing suspiciously at the speaker; Perfect mocha skin aglow, curved lips, intense eyes, finely arched eyebrows, tailored suit that fit like a glove- but all dismissed the notion when a single tear traced down the angelic face.
Dolls did not cry.
~~~
After the passing weeks filled with monotony in the silent mansion, the young ‘servant’ grew restless. Without his father there, there was nothing to fill his days. In a sudden thought, he decided to go to market. Donning his most favored clothes for the occasion, he meandered down the well-kept path towards the village.
That was a definite mistake, stepping within the Widow’s crosshairs.
~~~
“Quite a… man you are. Benjamin, is it?” the Widow purred, informal. The dress she wore was scandalous- a dropping neckline shaped as the tantalizing and shapely female backside, a vibrant red fitted bodice over a black silk and chemise dress. Benjamin inwardly cringed at the Widow’s touch on his shoulder, though remained polite and aloof, “Yes, Mistress. If you’ll pardon me…”
He made to pass the woman, but she jutted her hip out just so to keep him from going anywhere. Her eyes were snapping with ill-kept anger, her lower lip in a spoiled pout. The Widow stared at him, shocked that she would be so dismissed. Her eyes widened suddenly, as if seeing for the very first time. The tall man smiled thinly. “I really must be on my way-”
“I know what you are!” She blurted suddenly, young cheeks coloring.
“Oh?” Benjamin grinned at the Widow, fully aware of what she will say.
“Yes! And I will tell everyone.” She leaned in closely, narrowing her eyes as she whispered, “You’re… you’re a eunuch.”
Benjamin wheeled back in abject horror, breath hissing out in surprise. She nodded her head, caught up in the lie. “You were a boy from the Vienna Boys Choir, no? Of course you were, with such a voice…”
Internally, he was relieved. No one had guessed his secret so far. Since he was portrayed as a young 20, he supposed the choir was the only explanation to the villagers. Apparently not fond of the marriageable girls, they had to find some sort of excuse- their daughters were, after all, ‘darling creatures’… to the fathers, at least. “I am apologetic, Mistress, but I do have items and parcels to pick up.”
She took his arm in a tightening grip. “Then we shall go together, to dispel the truth; shall we not?”
Benjamin, losing his calm, gritted his teeth. “I am a solitary man, Widow, and I do not like falsehoods.” He yanked his arm from the talons of the dreadful woman. Too late did he notice that her nails did not scratch his skin…
The Widow’s eyes zeroed in on the unmarked flesh.
~~~
By the time the Widow reached the town center, Benjamin was on the docks, searching for a ship to anywhere but the village that once held such a wonderful promise.
~~~
Standing on the port side of the Brittania, Benjamin stared, open-mouthed, at the oncoming shore. The captain came on deck, smiling. “Ladies and Gents, welcome to Ellis Island.”
Pet Comments
| Spellbound says It always seems to happen when my kind is released..I feel that it will soon escalate into a ridiculous amount..not like it isn't already. I suppose one should be thankful these releases are few and far between. |
| Spellbound says ...Oh my...Ben, I fear my keeper may have lost her wits. We have five new additions today. |
| Fahrenheit says I think that may be needed, yes... /sigh Oh, how I wish Dune weren't so lazy about things. I prefer being called traditional more than anything, it has a more refined sound to it. |
| Fahrenheit says It is, but in today's world our preference would be considered "backwater" or something of the sort. Aha..n..no..unfortunately I'm positive it's because he (or should I be saying she?) puts things off saying "I'll do it tomorrow" but never gets around to it. I'm not sure where the mail went, actually. |
| Fahrenheit says Oh, how the might has fallen..or..something to that extent. I rather enjoyed my immobile time, even if I couldn't speak or move, it warmed me to see everyone give things from their heart, not the pocket. Ah...I wish that was the case, but, in this case my handler's just a moron. |
| Fahrenheit says I don't actually have a fondness for any of the holidays. Humans have become so vain, rather than feelings nowadays it's just 'who can give me the most expensive thing', it's disappointing. I am quite a fan of Walpurgus Night though. Ah..we..we are. I don't think there's two ways to look at it in this case. Perhaps when they aren't being so..uh..vacant-minded..or busy, hopefully we'll be able to have a proper conversation. |
| Fahrenheit says Ah, thank you. I've been meaning to have Cyan stop by and say hello, but with the new year it's been so hectic, everyone wants custom dolls for their 'darlings'. I'm not quite sure, actually. My handler is kind of a..well, a space cadet, in plain terms. |
| Fahrenheit says Ah, Ben. My..keeper seems to be a bit daft. That silly ram wanted me to leave a message that we will continue our journey as soon as Cyan and I have a change of appearan--appearance?! Oh no. I better not be getting a hair cut. |
| Weenie says -listens to her- ["Mmm... kinda? I mean, it's a little fuzzy..."] |
| Weenie says ["I'm not a fallen star. I'm what happens when a start completely burns out."] -rolls eyes- |
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