ISHMAEL - UNKNOWN - SINGLE
MAYBE OPEN FOR (OOC) BREEDINGS
MAYBE OPEN FOR (OOC) BREEDINGS
ismael, the doll
- Used to be one of Willow's playthings
- Until Willow got bored of him and just let him escape
- Ishmael is very passive
- mostly quiet, except when he feels threatened
- After Willow broke him, used him and turned him
he doesn't really have a mind on his own anymore
- roams around in search for a new master
- very willing to please
- basically just in search of something that is missing
- not really recognizable as an actual living being anymore
- not really alive either
- but also not dead
- Until Willow got bored of him and just let him escape
- Ishmael is very passive
- mostly quiet, except when he feels threatened
- After Willow broke him, used him and turned him
he doesn't really have a mind on his own anymore
- roams around in search for a new master
- very willing to please
- basically just in search of something that is missing
- not really recognizable as an actual living being anymore
- not really alive either
- but also not dead
Story
All fairytales begin with "Once upon a time", but this is not a fairytale. It is rather a nightmare, that I will never be able to tell. A nightmare, that left me silent but with thousand voices in my head. A nightmare, that left me with my own voice gone silent and with everything that I will ever say, only being the words of my master. It should be wrong, calling him that. Or at least it should feel wrong, but it does not. It's quite the opposite, to be fair. He, William, Willow, the dollmaker, the puppetmaster. He is all that I have left, he is all that I am living for anymore. It is true, that he took my old life with the grasp of his paw, but it is also true, that the granted me another. A second life, a second chance, so to say. Why do I say this? It is easy: He could have killed me too, couldn't he? Instead of keeping me, he could have ended my very life. I was at his mercy and I still am. He is not just the puppetmaster, but he is a deity. One of darkness, that's for sure, but a devine being nontheless. Who else, if not someone devine, would hold such great power? See, that's what I am talking about.
However, it is not what I want to talk about right now. Instead, I want to tell you my story. I know, that nobody will actually ever hear about this, as it is all just happening in my head, but there is nothing else to do. And this is the only reason why I am telling this story to myself at all: Because I have nothing else to do. I do not wish to be saved and there are no crimes that I want to speak about. No crimes have been commited, right? Sometimes, just sometimes, for the blink of an eye, I dare to think otherwise. But my master will always assure to punish this rebel side of me. There is nothing wrong with what I am, there is nothing wrong with what has been done to me. Willow saved me by granting me a second chance, a second life. He gave me bits and pieces of his power and I have to return this favor. Now, what do I do? I swore to protect him with every single breath I take. I am his and his only, only he can play me like the puppet I am. He is holding the strings and when he tells me to bow, I bow.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ishmael... that has not always been his name. Once, he bore another name, a name that neither he nor anyone else could remember anymore. But that didn't matter, because it faded long ago and lost all its meaning. His new name, however, bore more meaning than anyone could ever imagine. Ishmael, the name of a slave, a puppet, a plaything. Given to him by his master. And how the master and the slave came to be... this is the story, that is to be told right here:
Even though we do not know his name, we know quite some other things about him. He used to be a police offer once. A fairly young detective with his head still high in the clouds. A young man who still believed in the good in the world and in the people all around him and a young man who would grant second chances to anyone. He was determinded and independent, nobody else would be able to get in his way, as soon as he had himself focussing on his goal. He surely believed, that he could make the world into a better place, and that's what he tried to do. He really tried. And sometimes he managed. Sometimes, he actually managed to catch a thief or even a murderer. He had seen some pretty bad things, but yet he kept believing in the good, he always stayed positive. There was pretty much nothing that could bring him down, or so he thought. He thought, that no culprid could stand a chance against him, and perhaps he was right. Well, except for Willow. Willow, the dollmaker, the puppetmaster, was the one, that would bring him down.
It all started with people gone missing. First it was a young lady, a successful actress, who suddenly disappeared on her way home. Then it was a young child, together with his best friend - vanished on the playground. Followed by an old Viscet, a war veteran. And then a businessman. One by one they disappeared. All those Viscets had nothing in common but the fact, that they suddenly disappeared into the shadows - never to be seen again. The police did everything they could, but in no way it came to their mind to suspect one and the same culprid having to do with all these kidnappings. Except for one of them - the former mentioned young detective, who had heard stories and rumors about the guy who called himself the dollmaker. He heard, that guy would create you any puppet you desired; and he also heard rumors, that this guy, Willow was his name, would turn actual living viscets into dolls. This rumor was widespread, of course, but nobody paid attention to it, at least nobody within the police force. Well, nobody except for him; and because nobody would listen to him, he went to investigate his suspect all on his own.
When he appeared where the puppetmaster lived, a shiver went down his spine. There was a huge willow tree and right next to it an old hut, that looked just like a witch's hut right out of a fairytale. But neither of these two things had him cower in fear - instead it was the voices, that he could hear. They whined, they cried, they screamed and they pledged. There was no one to be seen, but the voices were everywhere. They filled the air and they filled his ears. At least one hundred different voices, crying for help. They were so omniscent, that the police officer felt like they were reaching out for him, grasping him and sucking the air right out of his lungs. Unable to breathe and with a feeling, that he found the right place, he stepped closer to the hut, when a trapdoor near the willow tree caught his attention. And he instantly knew: He had solved the case, he had found all the missing people. That's where they were. Below that willow tree. He could not know what the dollmaker had done to them, but he felt, that the things were nontheless horrible. But what he didn't yet know was, that he would be the next.
He still didn't know, when Willow approached him and spoke to him. Well, actually it was not the Viscet that spoke, but instead the voices seemed to come from everywhere, even from below the ground he was standing on. The police officer shivered again and every last part of his body told him to run, but he couldn't. The only thing he could was to stare into the other Viscet's eyes and listen to the nightmarish lullaby, that filled the air:
"Whoever you think, you are to be
I promise you, we will soon see
If you still are who you are now
Or if you willingly will bow
When I am done, then you will do
Whatever I will want from you.
My doll, my puppet, hear us speak
Oh feel me caressing your cheek
It is alright, it is all fine
In just a moment you will be mine."
And the last thing he knew, the last thing he would ever remember from his old self, from whom he was before he got turned into Ishmael, was all the sweet voices whispering and singing, when he lost conciousness.
When he awoke again, the young police officer was not anymore. Instead, his name was Ishmael - the name, that he had been given by his new master. The master, who murdered the police officer, just like he murdered all these other Viscets he kidnapped, and then used what was left to him to create yet another doll, yet another puppet whose strings he could pull. And when he was finished sewing new life into the creature before him, Willow smiled and a thousand voices whispered: "Ishmael."
However, it is not what I want to talk about right now. Instead, I want to tell you my story. I know, that nobody will actually ever hear about this, as it is all just happening in my head, but there is nothing else to do. And this is the only reason why I am telling this story to myself at all: Because I have nothing else to do. I do not wish to be saved and there are no crimes that I want to speak about. No crimes have been commited, right? Sometimes, just sometimes, for the blink of an eye, I dare to think otherwise. But my master will always assure to punish this rebel side of me. There is nothing wrong with what I am, there is nothing wrong with what has been done to me. Willow saved me by granting me a second chance, a second life. He gave me bits and pieces of his power and I have to return this favor. Now, what do I do? I swore to protect him with every single breath I take. I am his and his only, only he can play me like the puppet I am. He is holding the strings and when he tells me to bow, I bow.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ishmael... that has not always been his name. Once, he bore another name, a name that neither he nor anyone else could remember anymore. But that didn't matter, because it faded long ago and lost all its meaning. His new name, however, bore more meaning than anyone could ever imagine. Ishmael, the name of a slave, a puppet, a plaything. Given to him by his master. And how the master and the slave came to be... this is the story, that is to be told right here:
Even though we do not know his name, we know quite some other things about him. He used to be a police offer once. A fairly young detective with his head still high in the clouds. A young man who still believed in the good in the world and in the people all around him and a young man who would grant second chances to anyone. He was determinded and independent, nobody else would be able to get in his way, as soon as he had himself focussing on his goal. He surely believed, that he could make the world into a better place, and that's what he tried to do. He really tried. And sometimes he managed. Sometimes, he actually managed to catch a thief or even a murderer. He had seen some pretty bad things, but yet he kept believing in the good, he always stayed positive. There was pretty much nothing that could bring him down, or so he thought. He thought, that no culprid could stand a chance against him, and perhaps he was right. Well, except for Willow. Willow, the dollmaker, the puppetmaster, was the one, that would bring him down.
It all started with people gone missing. First it was a young lady, a successful actress, who suddenly disappeared on her way home. Then it was a young child, together with his best friend - vanished on the playground. Followed by an old Viscet, a war veteran. And then a businessman. One by one they disappeared. All those Viscets had nothing in common but the fact, that they suddenly disappeared into the shadows - never to be seen again. The police did everything they could, but in no way it came to their mind to suspect one and the same culprid having to do with all these kidnappings. Except for one of them - the former mentioned young detective, who had heard stories and rumors about the guy who called himself the dollmaker. He heard, that guy would create you any puppet you desired; and he also heard rumors, that this guy, Willow was his name, would turn actual living viscets into dolls. This rumor was widespread, of course, but nobody paid attention to it, at least nobody within the police force. Well, nobody except for him; and because nobody would listen to him, he went to investigate his suspect all on his own.
When he appeared where the puppetmaster lived, a shiver went down his spine. There was a huge willow tree and right next to it an old hut, that looked just like a witch's hut right out of a fairytale. But neither of these two things had him cower in fear - instead it was the voices, that he could hear. They whined, they cried, they screamed and they pledged. There was no one to be seen, but the voices were everywhere. They filled the air and they filled his ears. At least one hundred different voices, crying for help. They were so omniscent, that the police officer felt like they were reaching out for him, grasping him and sucking the air right out of his lungs. Unable to breathe and with a feeling, that he found the right place, he stepped closer to the hut, when a trapdoor near the willow tree caught his attention. And he instantly knew: He had solved the case, he had found all the missing people. That's where they were. Below that willow tree. He could not know what the dollmaker had done to them, but he felt, that the things were nontheless horrible. But what he didn't yet know was, that he would be the next.
He still didn't know, when Willow approached him and spoke to him. Well, actually it was not the Viscet that spoke, but instead the voices seemed to come from everywhere, even from below the ground he was standing on. The police officer shivered again and every last part of his body told him to run, but he couldn't. The only thing he could was to stare into the other Viscet's eyes and listen to the nightmarish lullaby, that filled the air:
"Whoever you think, you are to be
I promise you, we will soon see
If you still are who you are now
Or if you willingly will bow
When I am done, then you will do
Whatever I will want from you.
My doll, my puppet, hear us speak
Oh feel me caressing your cheek
It is alright, it is all fine
In just a moment you will be mine."
And the last thing he knew, the last thing he would ever remember from his old self, from whom he was before he got turned into Ishmael, was all the sweet voices whispering and singing, when he lost conciousness.
When he awoke again, the young police officer was not anymore. Instead, his name was Ishmael - the name, that he had been given by his new master. The master, who murdered the police officer, just like he murdered all these other Viscets he kidnapped, and then used what was left to him to create yet another doll, yet another puppet whose strings he could pull. And when he was finished sewing new life into the creature before him, Willow smiled and a thousand voices whispered: "Ishmael."