The room was filled with various tools and colors, easels and stands. The clockwork fingers moved a brush across canvas, the face and dress stained with various paints and colors, painting a foreign landscape not of this world. It hums to itself softly, moving with grace and precision as the only other sounds audible were the soft ticking of its heart. Its eyes modified to have several layers of adjustible magnification, for fine details. It loved seeing its work hung from the walls of the house. It loved creating all sorts of things. Materials and papers cluttered the center table. Designs of dresses for the other dolls sat neatly in a stack on a desk next to a sewing machine. A typewriter sat with a short story written on it, the paper not yet torn off to add to the growing binders on the shelves. It had no thoughts other than the details of what it created or is creating for Miss. A trash bin holds rejected designs and failed pieces. Its Purpose is to create. Sometimes it gets a bit too focused, and unwinds. Sometimes it takes the others a moment to notice, because of how quiet and shy it is, hiding in its studio. It doesn't mind the Stillness, but it does mind the racing thoughts of ideas it cannot work on while stuck unwound.

#emptyspaces