Stage 78 - Steven CYOA

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Koko was someone who was used to the finer things in life, but she'd never really had dolls. As a kid, she grew up playing with broomsticks and gadgets, learning French and piano, and painstakingly scouring through books on plants. She'd had a few knick-knacks — mostly jewellery, clothing and shoes, but also little trinkets like a shiny pair of dice or blown-glass animals that shone in the sunlight. Now, she'd grown into the type of person who collected things at times — she had a lovely collection of fine brooms, for one, and also pretty sets of cards, and also gloves for all occasions — but she rarely had anything that did not have a specified use.

Brooms, she could fly on. Cards, she could use for divination. Gloves? Gloves were useful for anything.

As she daintily opened the package, she saw the doll and smiled. She did not know what dolls were meant to look like; it had been years since she had been in a toy store. This one looked like a knit thing she might see in a kid's drawing, and she picked it up, her usually-neutral expression softening as she lightly touched some of the stuffing coming out of its stomach. 'Huh. Wonder what happened to you, hm?' she mused under her breath.

He — for he seemed like a he — wore a dapper little purple hat and had the cutest green eyes shaped of large buttons. He even came with a cloak and a staff. He was special.

Oh, yes. She had a place for him. Right next to all of her little trinkets. He could watch after the brooms while she was out, or maybe Jax could sleep next to him and be happy to have a friend. The possibilities were endless.

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Her fingers gently pried away the wrappings and inside was a most curious object: a doll. But it was unlike any doll she had encountered before. It certainly didn't look new, which was all right, but it was more than used as some of the threads and stuffing were coming loose around the doll's abdomen. And it held a strange staff that had an ominous look about it.

She held it for a moment, chewing. It was odd.

But she didn't have time to really consider it in any serious way. Certainly not before class that was. So, Maisie stuffed it in her satchel as she hurried out of the hall, not wanting to be late.

Date: 2025.03.22 xxxxxxxxx

Note: Thoughts, Speech, Mother xxxxx

The process was familiar.

The brown paper rustled as she finished unfolding the wrapping. She had not stopped to inspect the twine or the paper.

It was the same one from the day before.

Only the content was different. Instead of the burlap doll with the witch hat and matching cloak, it was another burlap doll. Adorned in a purple top hat and a matching cloak. Its stitching was similar to the first doll. There is no doubt, it is from the same sender. Handmade stitching.

Who had the time to make so many dolls? Clearly, the sender did.

Her fingers played with the loose stitching near the doll's belly, the sender must have grown tired after making so many dolls... the stitching is lazy. She glanced around while her fingers continued to play with the loose threads, it seems others received the same doll. Nabi's fingers paused. What was that? She looked down to see what she had felt just seconds ago. Matching the top hat and cloak, its filling was purple. Interesting choice of filling... One would think the doll was filled with cotton, straw, fabric, or even beans.

But not purple threads.

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to look at the doll. What secrets must this...doll be hiding for Professor Baird to say the other one is just a doll? What did Baird know and chose to withhold from her earlier? Nabi had more questions than she had answers, and she did not like that.

She was not going to leave a loose thread.

Still holding it, she decided to take the new doll with her as she began to walk out of the Great Hall. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will find out. She gave herself a slight nod, solidifying her plan on taking someone with her to revisit Baird. To prove to herself that it was not just a doll. Her plan was flawless.

Right?

Date: 1st April 2025

This doll was no accident. In Matthew's mind there was only one person nefarious enough to play games with him like this and even while others around him revealed similar gifts the boy couldn't contain his paranoia. Yet even still the doll was meant to be a cause of fear, a worm to nag at his brain and rot away his defences; it was a challenge and one Matthew wasn't likely to reject. So instead of dismissing the gift and throwing it to the side he would claim the small little necrotic child as his own.

Consumed by recent events and the isolation he was both forcing on himself and being subjected to Matthew wouldn't notice that others along the Slytherin table would receive similar parcels. No the young snake was so shrouded in darkness he could hardly see the sun, for life recently had simply become too much. Perhaps such depravity left room for the tiny words of the doll to slip beneath one of his many cracks. Thinking himself done he scooped up the doll only to feel the scratch of paper against his fingers and hear its rustle. Turning the dolls around he was faced with a different set of words, far more intriguing than the last, kid, you're going places.

Matthew wasn't sure what to make of it. Comparing the writing styles there was no doubt in his mind that the two were scribed by different hands but what did that mean. More questions in a long list of unanswered mysteries. As much as his brain yearned to deceive him into believing Gideon could be behind both, something about the second message rang far more true. It was like the large green button eyes of Steven were pouring into his soul really trying to mean it. Of course that couldn't be true, after all, it was just a doll but still the hope was enough to change the initial fear into optimism. Perhaps Steven would be a lucky charm after all, rather than a symbol of impending doom.

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