Gossamer

The world, a tapestry woven with the golden threads of dawn and the silver strands of twilight, cradled the silent tales of two enigmatic wanderers. In the verdant expanse where the veil between the ephemeral and the eternal fluttered like a gossamer curtain in the wind, their fates lingered on the edge of convergence—a dance of destiny not yet begun.

Memories, feelings, thoughts... they leave behind bits, pieces, almost soul like. A type of magic in itself, accidental, yet heavily looked down upon. A faux creature, offspring from a mind; a living toy. Skin of fabric, buttoned eyes, mouth stitched silent. A world that gives access to great change, grotesque monsters, masked hate. Gossamer threads that go deeper then physical. A doll plays the world itself.