Issol stared at the black doll-like figure standing stiffly in the corner and chuckled to herself, her eyes shining brightly as she turned to her maid. “Doesn’t he look adorable?” she said softly. “Like a little rabbit." The maid felt uneasy. She opened her mouth, intending to destroy her master’s interest in the scrawny human, but the sound of Issol’s giggle made her pause. There was something unsettling about it, something that told her it was already too late. Whatever had caught her mistress’s attention would not be released so easily. So she remained silent, glaring instead at the thing that had drawn Issol's gaze. Issol cared little for her companion’s unspoken thoughts. She moved forward at once, going to claim her doll before anyone else could. No one was allowed to touch what was hers. Stopping in front of him, she tilted her head, wondering if her appearance would frighten him. But she was surprised to find his gaze already fixed on her, calm and empty, lingering on her mismatched eyes without a trace of fear or emotion. That alone made her giggle again. She turned back to her maid, pleased. “I quite like this one,” Issol said. “This will be my doll. Born as the forgotten twin, Issol’s life had been decided long before she could understand it. It was written into the names her parents gave, sealed by favoritism, and marked by her mismatched eyes and hair that did not belong. Death should have been an ending. Instead, she awoke once more with her memories intact with pain following her into this new life, shaping her thoughts and hardening her heart. What became of her was no more innocence, but resolve. This time, she would no longer wait to be chosen. She would choose for herself.