[kivr & fireflii]

I had fun making this one 'u`

due to my busy busy schedule, I got some guest judges to choose the winners for me!
Congratulations to the winner ^^

Username;; Sly.Blue
Name;; Euthymios
Meaning;; good-spirited
Pronoun;; he/him
Shadow Name;; Memento Mori

Once there was a doll, with beautiful red eyes. Where this doll came from, no one really knows. It spent time with many owners, but never for very long. Perhaps it was its eyes, but every person to own the doll felt unsettled, and quickly gave it away. Stories began to attach themselves to the doll, imaginative tales of a ghost that haunted the item. It passed from hand to hand until it was lost, tucked up in an attic and forgotten about.

When the doll came to life, the first thing it heard was bells. They rang strong and clear, and so loud, the centaur opened his pretty red eyes. The lavender gem set between them began to sparkle and he heard a voice, telling him everything was going to be okay.

For a little while it was. But once the young doll came upon the Dollhouse, things began to get strange. Most of the residents were kind, but he could hear them speaking without moving their lips. He could hear their thoughts every time the amethyst, a gem for intuition and psychic powers, set into his forehead would sparkle. Soon, like the humans before, the other dolls became unsettled. The centaur didn't speak, but his eyes looked like they would see right into you.

The poor doll ran. He left the dollhouse, loyal owl in tow, and went some place they would be alone. He wandered in the forest, amusing himself by fashioning crowns of blossoms, and weaving clothes from the feathers dropped by his companion. But he was lonely.

It took some time before he learned to control his special gem. But with his shadow by his side, he kept faith, and found he could do more with it than he'd ever dreamed. He realized he could use this talent to help people. After all, as a doll he was never loved, but now he was alive. If that could happen, anything could.

Eventually he returned to the Dollhouse, although he still lives at its edges. He tends to keep to himself out of habit, but occasionally he will get other dolls visiting. They learned of his abilities, and often come to him for advice. He has a few friends now, for whom he crafts his special crowns to show his appreciation.

He lives a quite life, with his shadow ever present, and he enjoys things this way.

Both art pieces by myself.

// the images links are broken?? rn, not sure if it's just computer

[~:Saddles&Bridles:~]

Oh my god no. A-a centaur?

Huge reserve ;n;

Username: ~:Saddles&Bridles:~
Name: Colt
Meaning: takes care of horses / young male horse
Pronoun: agender he/him/his pronouns
Shadow name:
Extras:
1. Art
2. Personality
3. Story

Ideas DO NOT STEAL PLEASE!!!:

- isn't completely mute, can make soft snorts and nickers. Only whinnies if frightened or desperatly happy.
- stamps and jingles the bells in legs to communicate.
- uses shadow to send messages.

[.chamomile.]

username .chamomile.
name Israfel
meaning the angel of the trumpet and of beauty and resurrection
pronouns agender; prefers they/them/their but won't be offended if labeled as he/she
shadow name Narcissus

* all art by me!

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nar·cis·sism
ˈnärsəˌsizəm/
noun
1. excessive interest in oneself and one's physical appearance.

this is a simple tale, of how a young doll fell in love with their reflection
and realized their flaws, how damaging they could be
and that no one, no one is perfect.

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__________The spring flowers were in full bloom, sweet scents filling the air as bright colors stood against the deep greens of the forest. It was just like any other day of their life, a simple routine of waking up and washing with a soft cloth, running a brush through the coarse hairs of their coat, Narcissus hooting quietly beside them as the shadow awoke, ruffling his feathers as he began to preen them. Israfel cast their shadow a happy smile, going back to their grooming for that morning. Life here, for the most part, was uneventful, and they didn’t mind that one bit. They had never known anything outside of this daily routine of getting up and taking care of the garden, then wandering and doing as they pleased as soon as they were done with that. Most of their days consisted of exploring the forest surrounding their home, looking for odd trinkets or pretty plants that they might be able to grow, or, if it fancied them, they would go for a swim at the waterfall or eat their lunch out on the soft grass and moss covered floor of the forest. It was a simple life, one that they wouldn’t give up or really wanted to change.

__________Naturally, nothing ever stays the same. There are always little changes, of course. The hydrangeas will change color depending on the conditions of the soil. Annual plants will die in the winter months, and they have to replace them come time to plant seeds again. A birds nest will form on the little ledges of the temple, broken and while and crumbling a bit in the winds and the hail. For a while a squirrel had befriended them, a comfortable change that they had loved. All in all these were minor things, things that didn’t matter in the long run (though they do worry about the temple collapsing; they’re not at all eager to clean up that mess when it happens). As long as the constants didn’t change, then all was good. Like the constant greenness of the forest, and the changing of the seasons. Not to mention that the fountain that stood in front of the fountain was never flowing, it never had as long as they had been here. That wasn’t a huge problem though, they collected water from nearby streams when they needed it, but the fact that it was broken was a constant in their life. There were no mirrors here either, not that Israfel would really know what the item was considering they had never seen one. Yet another constant, but one they didn’t know about. Narcissus was constant, their home and routine were constants. The patterns of the seasons were constants. And as far as they knew, these things could not be changed, nor should they be changed. For how should they feel if Narcissus suddenly left them? Or if they encountered a mirror? The consequences would be hard to predict.

__________. . . Go to sleep my darling, when you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses. Black and bays, dapples, grays, all the pretty little horses . . . Israfel sang, in his head of course, the soft voice of an unknown woman lilting through his mind. They didn’t know where they had heard it, but it had been stuck in their memory for as long as they could remember, clear as day every time they thought of it. He beckoned for his Shadow to come rest upon his shoulder, come now, we haven’t got all day, they thought to themself, an amused smile on their lips. Such a phrase was a joke to him, because in reality they did have all day, and all year to do everything they wanted. There was no rush to their lives. The sun was bright and warm as the pair stepped outside, Israfel’s hooves making a clicking noise as he walked across the mostly broken stone path that lead to the gardens, still humming gently to themself. They glanced towards the temple, a familiar, constant sight, not even registering the fact that the fountain was flowing the first time. They stopped in their tracks, looking back again, in awe and confusion.

__________From here, the water looked bright and clear, sparkling in the daylight. It was different than the waterfall, which was rough and turbulent, always flowing, always moving away. This was elegant and graceful, and if they listened hard enough, they could hear the gentle trickle of the water as it fell down. Israfel nodded his head towards the fountain, a silent question of whether or not they should go and look at it. Narcissus hooted in agreement, leaping off his Doll’s shoulder to fly over to the thing. It seemed that their eyes had not lied to them, for the fountain truly was flowing with clear, cool water. The shadow dipped his wing into it, gazing at his own reflection in the pool below, which was relatively still. Already a few petals were floating in it, how they got there, neither of them really knew. Israfel joined him moments later, stopping and kneeling down to the ground as they gazed upon their reflection.

__________They had never before seen an image of themself, not in a mirror and not in the reflection of any water. The trees kept the sun from shining in the forest, and it was hard to make out anything save for their figure when they went to visit the falls. Here though, they could see themself clearly, their golden locks and crown made of red roses, their pale, delicate skin and the red tinge in their eye. Is this me? they thought to themself, reaching out with a pale hand to touch their reflection, water rippling under their fingers. They thought that beauty only came through the grace of nature, and had always assumed that they could never be as beautiful as the flowers that grew in their garden, or as wildly gorgeous as vines that creeped up the willows and oaks. They were captured by their reflection, by their beauty, unable to tear themself away from the pool of water.

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__________They stayed there for days, admiring their beauty. They would count the lashes on their eyes, note how long and lush they looked. They would watch the way their golden hair caught the sunlight, watch the way it would reflect and make it seem like it was shimmering and flowing. They especially liked their pale skin and delicate features, the soft line of their lips, their sharp cheekbones and slightly upturned nose. Gods, they were beautiful. They had never seen a creature such as them, and in comparison, every other animal and flower was ugly and disgraceful. They didn’t have their long limbs, or their red eyes. Or the gem that was there on their forehead, purple and glittering. No other creature had such a rare treasure that was gifted to them, a part of them. Israfel was different, they were special and unique. They were better.

__________Narcissus tried his best to pry the Doll away from their reflection, hooting constantly and flying around their head. This of course did nothing to distract them. The shadow tried all day, worried as the hours dragged on and the moon came out, continuing his efforts until he was too tired to continue. This went on during the next day, and the day after, and soon the days dragged into weeks, and the weeks into a month and half. Israfel hadn’t moved since then, they hadn’t done anything but stare at their reflection. The garden had quickly grown wild, kept alive only by the infrequent rains and Narcissus’s best efforts to water the plants. Vines had started to creep up the columns of the temple, vines that Israfel normally kept at bay. Their home was covered in a thin layer of dust from their absence, and while all of this was happening, Israel had not moved.

Your eyes are an unnatural color.

Look at how your curls fall flat, are they really golden? Or more of a dull, mustard color?

The flowers upon your head are truly the only beautiful thing upon you.

What is the point of having such bony fingers? There is no grace in them.

__________These comments, these little nasty thoughts had been plaguing Israfel recently, each one chipping away at them slowly. They didn’t feel beautiful anymore. They didn’t like their long lashes or pale skin, which looked ashy. They didn’t want to gaze upon their golden curls, now lying flat against their head from the lack of washing. Bags had gathered under their eyes, ugly and bruised looking, taking away from their almond shape and red color.

The fairness of your skin means nothing when it looks so ashy.

Red eyes are unnatural, no one would ever like them.

You are not even human, you have the body of a horse. How unnatural.

A gem would only be given to a creature of true ugliness, to mark their awful personality. Beauty means nothing.

__________Beauty meant nothing. They didn’t feel beautiful anymore. Finally, one month, two weeks, and three days later, Israfel pulled themself away from the fountain, hurt by the demons in his head that told them everything that made them ugly. They blinked as they looked around them, feeling panic rise in their chest when they took in the state of their home. Everything was overgrown, and they felt so guilty for leaving their shadow to do everything on his own. They found Narcissus napping at the doorstep of their house, opening the door to find it covered in a thin layer of dust. How could they have let this happen? All of this, all because they had become obsessed with their reflection, with their beauty. The shadow soon woke, fluttering to their shoulder as they took everything in, a small breath escaping their lips as they realized just how much work needed to be done. I’m sorry, they tried to say, giving their shadow a look of regret and sorrow, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let this happen.

Israfel never returned to the fountain since that day.
Nor has he spared a single thought about his vanity.

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[frogpaws]

Username:
Name:
Meaning:
Pronoun:
Shadow name:
Extras:
(up to 3 extras, either ART and/or WRITING)

[Tart]

Username:
Name: Chartreuse
Meaning:
Pronoun: They them/he him
Shadow name:
Extras:
(up to 3 extras, either ART and/or WRITING)

[worshipthesquid]

(marking to stalk entries woww)

[Rivkah]

I am Rivkah.
The centaur is named Viridian, namesake
being a blue-green reminiscent of the sea.
This subject owns male pronouns. The shadow
is called Demeter, after the goddess
responsible for winter.

Viridian believes himself to be relatively useless
due to a few contributing factors that rule over
his life. The stated factors are his albinism, which
carries along with it all the typical symptoms, and
his muteness. These things drive him away from
sunny areas and outside the dollhouse, and he
relies on Demeter to shield him and prevent
sickness. However, he holds more merit than he
realizes. Early on, he discovered he could analyze
a situation and predict nearly every possible
circumstance depending upon the actions of
himself or other people. When trying to
demonstrate or "explain" this, he has been
mistaken by other dolls as having an actual
psychic ability of prophesy, leading to
embarrassing misunderstandings that drive
him further into his self-induced isolation.
Additionally, his lack of speech makes it hard
to communicate caution in potentially dangerous
situations, and so he retreats. This is the origin
of his anxious and distressed demeanor, and his
lack of speech, plus aversion to any and all
communication, are read as haughty and aloof. ❂

❂ When I get anxious, Demeter's
bells are a soothing song to me.

❂ Friends weave flower crowns for
friends, but they don't abandon them.

❂ Funny how the days pass when all
you can see is the possibilities abroad.

❂ Speech shouldn't be such a barrier in
society, but it is, and always will be.

❂ Demeter's extra feathers go into my
coat. I get warmer every winter.

❂ Grooming can pass the time, but
company would make it so much sweeter.

❂ Dark colors to contrast the lack of such
in skin - a timeless fashion statement.

❂ The mind of a child is all whimsy
in the head of an adult.

Art is mine, with help from a friend for redlining.
Thank you for this chance!

[yttd]

Username:
Name:
Meaning:
Pronoun:
Shadow name:
Extras:
(up to 3 extras, either ART and/or WRITING)

-uses the bells to speak for him, when he wants to make a compliment he has a certain way of twinkling them, when he's angry he shakes them more violently.
-nature name!!!!!!!
mark mark mark equine people YES

[SquishyFrogg0]

Username: DerpyPanda123
Name: Jolie Fleur
Meaning: 'Pretty Flower' in French
Pronoun: She/Her/Hers
Shadow name: Velox Umbra
Meaning: 'Swift Shadow' in Latin
Extras: working on it
(up to 3 extras, either ART and/or WRITING)

[rabbit...]

*Screeches* What a cutie! If I find enough time and create a cool concept, I'll definetly enter! <3